


Changes are all we need

by muffinqueen09



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, BAMF Merlin, Gen, Hurt Merlin, Hurt/Comfort, Magic Revealed, Once and Future King, Protective Arthur
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2018-06-01 17:08:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 42,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6528655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muffinqueen09/pseuds/muffinqueen09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a friend shows Merlin how it will end he decides to screw destiny and to not do as it has been foretold</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Running saves energy

**Author's Note:**

> First fic ever so please be gentle :)  
> I don't have a beta so all the mistakes are my own^^  
> I do not own Merlin, or the last season would have been very different.

 

 

Surprisingly enough it takes the bandits until sundown to come across him.

He’s just been collecting a few herbs for Gaius since Arthur didn’t need his services today and the old physician himself had been called to the lower town to look into a few cases of the flu.

They surprised him –or he them, who cares- and had immediately drawn their swords and attacked. Now, Merlin might be the most powerful warlock to ever walk the earth, but he was tired –he hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep since that little incident with the Disir, waking up from nightmares more tired than when he went to bed- malnourished –his appetite hadn’t returned either- and exhausted –he still had to work hard- almost to the point of collapse and since he didn’t only have magic, he was magic, he couldn’t even find the strength to blast them away.

So he runs, which is apparently less straining than magic, who would have guessed.

He thinks he is running back to Camelot, but instead must have gone the other way because suddenly there are no more trees in front of him but a beautiful lake and he knows this one, would never forget it.

Stumbling to a halt he swears. In front of him is only the lake and the forest behind him is loudly alive with bandits. With a word he picked up in the tavern fight Gwaine dragged him into once he turns around, takes a fighting pose and tries to summon his magic again.

Just when he thinks he has gotten a grip on it the arrow hits his shoulder. It’s a lucky shot, throws him off balance and he lands on his back in the water with a curse. For a moment he sees stars, his shoulder is on fire and if the water wasn’t that cold he probably would have lost consciousness altogether.

As it is his vision clears up just in time to see all the bandits emerging out of the forest.

It takes him two tries to get up and when he does all the swords are pointed at him. He grits his teeth and raises his hand and forces his magic to obey him so when the first ones attack he is able to push one back, the other to the side and the third trips over his own feet, impaling himself on his own sword.

The rest eye him warily. Merlin tries very hard to look grim and not to faint because that last spell was more luck than anything else. He can feel the blood running down his arm; can tell that he is white as a sheet; the last two weeks, running around in the forest and standing in water that was cold enough to numb his legs making his vision grey at the edges and his heart beating way too fast for his liking.

When the next one attacks, he only manages to push him back a step. The man leers and takes a swing at him that forces him even deeper into the lake. Another swing, this one aimed better and Merlin feels the blade biting into his arm, despite his hasty step backwards and suddenly the rough gravel underneath his feet gives way and he falls. Merlin grits his teeth and wonders for a split second about this rotten day before he is completely underwater.

The water is so cold he barely manages to hold his breath and when he comes back up, spluttering and swearing he expects to be beheaded immediately.

Instead he witnesses the lake rising up to fight the bandits. He is so surprised that for a moment he forgets that he is sitting in an icy lake, an arrow piercing his shoulder and the deep wound in his arm.

The bandits try to get as far away from the water as possible, Merlin however can tell that no one makes it far enough. The water rises up in tall waves even though around him it’s still as a mirror. Where it touches the bandits it seems to burn them, rising up in steam from their bodies and pulling them slowly but surely back to the lake. When the last one disappears in its endless depths, it’s eerie silent. Then the water rises again, this time around him and carries him carefully a few feet onto the beach.

He realizes he is shaking when a soft hand touches his shoulder, the rushing of blood in his ears registers when the woman kneeling in front of him opens her mouth and seems to say something. He only stares at her she frowns. It’s a rather pretty frown. Her hand on his shoulder tightens and suddenly his clothes are dry again and the pain subsides to a soft burning.

Without the pain and coldness it only takes him a moment to get his bearings.

He blinks and a soft smile curls his lips.

“Hey, Freya.”

His voice is so raspy, he is surprised she even understands him, but she smiles and before he can say anything else, her arms are around him, mindful of his injuries he hugs her back.

“Sorry, it took me so long. They weren’t close enough.” she whispers into his hair.

He shakes his head and tries to hold her even closer, he never wants to let go.

But after a moment Freya carefully pulls back, and without a warning pulls the arrow from his shoulder.

At his cry of pain she winces and gives him an apologetic smile. “Sorry.” She repeats.

He grunts and tries to get his breath back when she speaks again.

“I have to show you something. I’m sorry. I know you’re hurt and I can’t heal you, but this is important.” Slowly she raises her hands to his temples and locks her eyes on his. Her last words are barley a whisper. “Forgive me.”

He doesn’t even have time for another breath before he is assaulted by a maelstrom of pictures, sounds and emotions. It is like a bad dream, the worst he’s had until then –and he’s had some really bad ones, but nothing could compare to this.

He sees Elyan dying in his sister’s arms, his efforts for nothing, as the queen is abducted and turned into a puppet to destroy Camelot from within and he cries for a brother he lost and a sister he couldn’t protect.

Friends he doesn’t yet know giving their lives to protect him and tears fall down his cheeks in the face of such loyalty.

Fighting Aithusa, the dragon he swore to protect and his heart breaks for her, when he feels her history.

Mordred helping him, until a druid girl dies a violent death and love is again proven to be a most treacherous thing and he screams in the face of such unfairness, because this information alone will not be enough to change destiny, but it’s a start.

His magic is being stripped from him, only for him to regain it later and he despairs because he knows already that it will be too late.

A dark cell where Gwaine is tortured until he breaks and dies in Percival’s arms and he weeps for a friend lost to death and one lost to guilt and self-hatred.

Then it’s his old nightmare of Arthur falling at his once trusted knight’s hand and impaling Mordred at the same time with Excalibur. Merlin killing Morgana while trying to save the king, telling him as he does that he has magic and Arthur accepting him, only to die in Merlin’s arms shortly after. His screams and tears are as loud and broken as they are in the vision.

He lives through years alone, sees all his friends die, years turn to decades turn to centuries and he is alone, always alone, always waiting, never wanting to get close to the people living around him, fearing the pain of losing them again.

And then it stops as suddenly as it started.

His head is cushioned in Freya’s lap and she is stroking his hair and murmuring soothing nonsense.

Tears are running down his cheeks and his throat is raw. For a moment he is still trapped in that future that is more horrible than he thinks he can bear.

But then Freya’s words finally register and really, did he ever think that she would put him through that just for the fun of it?

“Now you know. It’s not set in stone, you can change it. It’s not set in stone.”

Yes, he thinks, I can change it. I have to try.

And then the first vision really pops into his head again and he practically bolts upright. His vision swims and for a moment he fears he might black out. Freya steadies him and tries to get him to stay down for a moment longer but he shakes his head.

“Is it true?” he asks, “Can I really change it?”

“Why do you think I showed it to you?” the eyebrow she raises at him rivals Gaius’. “While I enjoy your head in my lap I would prefer other circumstances.”

It’s evident how lost in his thoughts he is, that he doesn’t even blush at that but takes it in stride and tries to get up. He only manages it with Freya’s help.

He grits his teeth against the pain welling up again and the fact that he is not only seeing double but triple.

“I need to get back, now. Gwen will leave in the morning. I have to stop her.”

Freya nods, “My light will guide you.”

It’s only then that he realizes its pitch dark night around them except for the orange balls of light swirling around them. How long had he been trapped in those visions?

“Thank you. Not only for the light.” His lips curl into a smile as he says it, the first real one in weeks, which grows bigger as she hugs him and places a soft kiss on his mouth that seems to radiate warmth even after she takes a step back.

“Good bye, Merlin. We will meet again.” And with that he is suddenly alone at the beach, only the balls of soft orange light keeping him company.

With a sign Merlin starts to walk back into the forest, the light following him obediently.


	2. Letting go (or not)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this is shorter than I thought^^
> 
> Also I would like to thank everyone who already read this, you are amazing :)  
> I don't know if I will be able to post regularly, but I'll try.

It takes him until dawn to get back to Camelot. He doesn’t stop once, because he knows that he probably wouldn’t be able to get up again once he sits down and he has to stop Gwen, it’s the only thing that keeps him going.

He doesn’t know why the guards positioned at the gates don’t stop him, he doesn’t really care anyway.

When he finally reaches the courtyard his heart leaps into his throat. There are horses waiting and Elyan and the knights have already mounted theirs. Only the queen is still standing at the top of the wide marble steps, saying goodbye to Arthur.

He makes the mistake and stops just for a moment to catch his breath and can’t go on. As he tries to take another step all the strength seem to have left his legs and he falls down hard. He realizes he must have cried out because when his vision clears again he notices he kneels on the ground, the knights, Arthur and Gwen staring at him. And then after a moment of complete silence all hell breaks loose.

Merlin winces at the loud orders Arthur shouts to his knights to get Gaius, to bring a stretcher and to get the horses out of the way. They scatter to obey their king and then his vision is obscured by red cloaks and Arthur is there, Gwen and Elyan at his side. And that’s important, because he has to tell them something.

Before he can get his voice to form words Arthur touches his shoulder, probably in an attempt to get him to focus and he cries out, his vision goes black for a second and then it’s like his senses are highlighted and he feels every scratch, bruise and bump he collected in the last 24 hours. He whimpers and tries to curl into himself to protect at least his arm. He hears people talking and then there is a soft warmth settling on his shoulders. It’s only then he notices that he started to shake rather violently. The cloak helps a little bit but it also seems to shake him out of his pain induced stupor with a start he remembers why it’s important that Gwen and Elyan have not yet left.

“Gwen,” the grip he suddenly has on her arm is probably too hard and like ice, judging by the way she flinches, “stay. Don’t go today. Bandits… No, Morgana. She is…, will hurt you. Don’t leave. Please.”

His voice is barely above a whisper once he is finished and breaks on the last word. He tries to look at her, but finds his eyes closed at some point and he can’t seem to open them. He swallows thickly and tries to talk again, tries to tell them that Elyan will be killed and Gwen enslaved. Before he has the chance to he hears footsteps coming towards him and then there are orders shouted again and he is lifted and then feels like he is floating. His fingers are still curled in Gwen’s soft dress and he knows he will have to let go, but for now he tries to concentrate on that and not fall into the soft embrace of unconsciousness because he still has to _tell_ them so much.

“Merlin, it’s okay my boy. You are safe. You have to let her go.”

Gaius words are almost enough to make him do just that but then he remembers and his eyes snap open and lock onto Gwen’s.

“Don’t. Please.” He croaks and wills her to understand. “Don’t go.” His grip tightens on her arm again. “Promise.”

There are tears in her eyes when she nods and finally he can let go.


	3. Keeping safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one, I hope you like it so far :)  
> As you probably found out by now, I really hated how the series ended and since my brain didn't shut up about it for the last years I wanted to write my own ending with butterflies and candy cakes ;)  
> There's not really a lot of plot in this one, the next one will be better!

He wakes to soft voices whispering around him and even softer hands brushing through his hair. There is pain in his shoulder, but it’s distant enough, like the cold that seems to have nestled deep in his bones, despite the fire surging through his veins. The comforting hand leaves his hair and returns shortly after pressing a rough cloth to his forehead and the cold water soaking into his hair is nice, like the call back to the darkness he follows willingly.

The next time he wakes up he is more aware of his surroundings. He knows that the voices belong to Gwaine and Percival and the hand clutching his is Gwen’s. He doesn’t feel like he is frozen and on fire simultaneously and his shoulder while still sensitive doesn’t hurt anymore. Gwaine says something he doesn’t understand but he hears Gwen’s soft laugh and Percival’s low chuckle and falls asleep again with a smile.

When he opens his eyes it’s evening, judging by the amount candles lighting up the room and Gwaine, Percival, Mordred, Leon and Arthur all gathered in Gaius’ small room.

No one notices he is awake, discussing something Merlin feels too tired to follow until he hears Elyan’s and Gwen’s name. He remembers and bolts upright with a strangled gasp and tries to get out of bed, only succeeding an almost falling out of it and effectively getting the attention of everyone in the room.

“Woah, not so fast.” Arthur says as he stops him from falling face down onto the floor.

Other hands help the king to hold him down, and Merlin would shout at them to let him go, that he needs to save them, if it weren’t for the fact that he can’t find his voice. He tries to get up again only to realize he is as week as a newborn. He groans in desperation and opens his mouth again to say something, anything, only to almost start hyperventilating when he notices the sad and worried expressions on the knights’ faces, thinking Elyan’s death and Gwen’s abduction are the cause for their expressions.

Arthur is still at his side, talking to him, trying to get him to normalize his breathing but Merlin _can’t!_

He groans and buries his face in his hands but that makes it only worse and just when he thinks he might suffocate on air there’s a voice in his head.

_Emrys! We are all here. It didn’t happen. She is in her chambers. Elyan is in his. They are safe. She didn’t get them._

The sentences are repeated over and over again and then with a little more detail once his breathing slows down and his heart rate returns to something almost normal. He doesn’t even notice that he is falling back asleep.

When he manages to open his eyes again it’s to two people discussing different ways to ensure a pregnancy and the soft snores of a third.

This time he can tell that he isn’t on any pain medication from the soft burn in his shoulder and the distant itch of his many healing cuts and bruises. His head feels clearer too. He still feels week, but this weakness he knows from experience, having had to recover from wounds of all kinds before. His throat is raw and he is thirsty and when he tries to ask for water he only manages a soft croak that still manages to be loud enough to interrupt the conversation. It’s only a moment before strong hands lift him up and a cup is pressed to his lips. After he drank but a few mouthfuls he realizes he still has to open his eyes and when he does memory comes rushing back. He groans and snaps them shut again and fights down the rising panic because opening his eyes also revealed that Gwen and Elyan are currently right next to him.

“Merlin?” Gwen’s soft voice inquires and he notices he is again clutching her hand.

Opening both his eyes and his fingers he smiles at her. It’s a rather watery smile with tears running down his cheeks, but he can’t stop them because it _worked!_ He changed the future - or at least the present, but that’s the same, isn’t it?

She returns his smile and hugs him, carful and then she cries into his shoulder, sobbing how worried they all had been and that she would never allow him to go out on his own ever again, and _how could he?_

Merlin can’t fight the grin that spreads on his face as he hugs her back and mouths _women!_ in Elyan’s direction and grins even more at Elyan’s soft laughter and Gwen’s outraged look as she turned around to tell her brother to shut up, _because you were as worried as the rest of us!_ and Merlin laughs and hugs her fiercely.

They make sure he eats some of the soup Gaius left for him and takes his medicine. When he asks about Arthur they tell him he had to meet a diplomat from King Lot, hence only the two of them were able to stay by his side. They explain that the wound from the arrow got infected and the resulting fever had left him burning for days.

“We were so worried. You would wake up and scream for us, saying you tried and that it wasn’t fair and they should just kill you, and you were done playing their game.” She shakes her head and sighs. “I meant what I said; you will not leave this castle on your own in the foreseeable future!”

Her hands clutch his and he sighs. He doesn’t remember waking up like that and wonders what else he might have said but decides to care about that once he doesn’t feel like death warmed over anymore.

“There were so many people coming down with the flu that Gaius had to spend most of the days in the city. Arthur heard when Gaius asked me to look after you for him and gave Gwaine, Elyan, Percival and Mordred the order to help me.” She smiles and gives his hands a little squeeze.

“We took turns staying here. Arthur must have spent more time here than anywhere else. But don’t tell him!” This time there is silent laughter in her voice and Merlin can’t help the grin that stretches his face.

Elyan clasps his shoulder and says, “He was so worried about you, he even got through a meeting with Lord Byron without falling half asleep.”

Gwen rolls her eyes and gives her brother a mock glare. “And you were so worried about me that you wanted to follow me to the bathroom that first day.”

“If you think you went there without protection, you are mistaken. Do you think it was coincidence that a maid happened to follow you every time?”

Gwen looks so outraged at that, that Merlin can’t help himself and starts laughing.

He sees their smiles and thinks that this is already so much better than the future he saw.

 

They leave when Gaius returns and shoos them out to examine Merlin properly. The old physician seems to have aged in the last days. Merlin tells him what happened at the lake. He leaves out Freya and just calls her the Lady of the Lake and also doesn’t tell Gaius all of what he saw, it’s enough that he will have nightmares, he doesn’t have to put Gaius through that as well.

But he does tell his mentor what he intends to change, how he thinks the future can be altered.

He expects Gaius to scold him for believing a stranger, to say that the future cannot be changed, Gaius however surprises him and says nothing at all at first.

When he does it’s not what he expected.

“I know it seems to already have worked.” He sighs and starts to rewrap Merlin’s shoulder. “But you can’t save everyone and you know that.”

His eyes bore into Merlin’s and then he sighs again.

Merlin swallows and thinks about Nimueh. He shudders and pushes that thought away. He didn’t save a life, which was supposed to be taken, he just prevented something horrible. And let’s be honest, they probably wouldn’t have left even without him telling them not to. According to Gaius he had been in a rather bad shape when he had turned up in the courtyard, he just wanted to believe that at least Gwen would have hesitated to leave right away with him this grievously injured.

And even if the balance had been disturbed its effects would have shown themselves already.

He hopes that he changing his very destiny will be treated the same way.


	4. Using magic to polish armor

Merlin knows exactly when the meeting is over. The door to Gaius chambers bursts open and he hears the voices of Gwaine, Percival, Elyan, Mordred and Leon loudly demanding to see Merlin. Merlin flinches when their voices make him remember things that he shouldn’t and will do his best to never let come to pass. He barely has time to hide his inner turmoil before they burst through his door, matching expressions of happiness and relief on all their faces. But there are also deep shadows under all their eyes and they look just as tired as Merlin feels. Merlin knows he won’t get an answer as to why they look ready to keel over; he just hopes he will get a chance to ask maybe Gwaine or Elyan about it at a quiet moment.

“Merlin, mate, how are you?” Gwaine is the first at his bedside and embraces him fiercely, the others not far behind.

“I’m fine. I’ve had worse.” He answers and can’t help the grin that’s suddenly on his face, happiness having won the battle against sadness, remorse and sorrow once the knight had hugged him.

Gwaine snorts and ruffles his hair playfully.

“Yeah, I’m sure about that.” Then his expression turns serious. “What the hell happened?”

Merlin sighs and says, “Bandits. I overheard them in the forest talking about abducting Gwen for Morgana. They must have noticed me because suddenly they started shooting.” He shrugs with his good shoulder and smiles sheepishly. “I got lost as I tried to get away from them, which wasn’t too bad since apparently they couldn’t find me either. When I realized I had lost them I tried to get back to warn Gwen and Elyan but it was hard to find the way at night. But I made it!” This time he doesn’t have to fake the grin that springs to his face. It nearly falters when he notices Gwaine looking not even remotely convinced.

The knight however doesn’t say anything instead he claps Merlin on his good shoulder. “Luckily your sense of direction is not as bad as you sense of self-preservation or you would still be wandering around.”

The clear reprimand is echoed immediately by the other knights until Merlin interrupts them telling them that at least he doesn’t participate in deadly tournaments just for fun. That shuts them up for about five seconds before Leon says that technically tournaments are safe, it’s just the ones in Camelot that are not and that Merlin still somehow manages to get injured in some of them without participating. That leads to an entirely new discussion on how Merlin always manages to attract this much attention from people ending up almost killing him and that Gwen is right, they shouldn’t let him wander around unsupervised anymore. Merlin can’t help the laughter that bubbles up at their ridiculous ideas of how to keep him safe.

It’s almost two hours later when Gaius notices Merlin’s drooping eyelids and sends the knights on their way. Gwaine however doesn’t move an inch from where he is seated next to Merlin’s small cot and Gaius doesn’t say anything. He tells Merlin to take his medications and closes the door on his way out to give them the privacy to talk.

Merlin feels Gwaine’s eyes on him and suddenly feels much less sleepy.

“So, you want to tell me what really happened? Because that story you just told us was utter bull.”

Gwaine doesn’t raise his voice and he looks completely relaxed and seems to make a point of appearing as non-threatening as possible.

Merlin feels his walls coming up none the less and it’s only due to his years of deflecting this kind of accusations that he doesn’t flinch.

“I don’t know what you mean. I just told you what happened and Gaius will surely tell you that my injuries -.”

“Bullshit!” Gwaine’s voice is still even. He looks more sad than angry and before Merlin can think of another story he could tell him his friend sighs.

“Look, I know you probably have your reasons not to tell me, just know that I would never betray you. I’m your friend, Merlin, and I would take your secrets with me to the grave.”

Hearing Gwaine talk about dying to protect someone is a little too close to the constant nightmares he has about his friend that this time he can’t hide the flinch. He doesn’t know what Gwaine sees on his face, but the knight lowers his arms from behind his head and leans forward to look at him more closely.

“You’re not worried that I might snitch on you, you’re worried I might get hut protecting you.”

He laughs. “You know, I’ve been in more fights than all the knights together. I can take care of myself.” Winking at Merlin he adds, “So tell me your secret or I will be the one following you around.”

The last sentence is only half a joke and Merlin tries to turn it into one saying, “No, you won’t. Because then Arthur will put me into the stocks again, since I can’t work hungover all the time and you will be sent to the borders so he doesn’t have to listen to your whining.”

That gets him a laugh and a shake of the head.

“True, but I still would have spent many nights with you at the tavern and since you’re a lightweight you would have told me all your secrets by then.” He gets serious again and crosses his arms as he leans back.

“You don’t have to tell me now, just know that you can. Besides, it can hardly be as bad as you having magic and –“

He breaks up when he sees the flinch Merlin can’t quiet hide. He only sees it because the warlock is too tired and too exhausted and something in him wants to tell Gwaine so badly it almost hurts and he is so focused on fabricating another story he only hears half of what Gwaine says and Gwaine was watching him way too closely to miss it.

The silence that follows is deafening. And then Gwaine laughs again, it’s a relieved one and after a moment Merlin feels his hands unclench and hesitant smile spreading on his lips. He could still try to talk his way out of it, could find excuses or another explanation for all the things he knows Gwaine is already looking back on, only now the knight fills in the gaps and missing pieces with _Merlin has Magic_ and suddenly he really doesn’t want to anymore. He wants Gwaine to know, needs him to. He’s been so lonely ever since Lancelot’s death and he yearns to tell someone. He knows it can’t be Arthur, not yet, and he can’t think of anyone he would rather tell than Gwaine. So he doesn’t, just waits for Gwaine’s laughter to die down again.

The knight is still giggling when he says, “Arthur is going to throw a fit when he finds out.” Because, of course, Gwaine assumes rightly that the king doesn’t know.

That sobers Merlin up fast. “You cannot tell him! Gwaine, he can’t know. He will kill me!”

Instead of getting serious again Gwaine starts to laugh again. He stops when Merlin hits his arm and hisses, “Gwaine!”

“You don’t believe that, do you?” There is still laughter in Gwaine’s words and his eyes are sparkling. “Merlin, mate, he won’t kill you. He’s not that much of an idiot.”

“He’s the king and magic is outlawed in Camelot. I’m just a servant, Gwaine. He won’t have any other choice.”

“You don’t really believe that. You’re his friend. He will get angry and put you in the stocks, but you can’t believe that he will kill you.” The laughter has disappeared from his voice and he looks at Merlin with serious eyes.

“He can’t make an exception for me. He has to follow the law. I won’t make him choose.” He suddenly feels tired again. “I know that I will have to be the one to tell him and as long as magic is outlawed I can’t. He _will_ change the law, one day, I know he will. He just needs a little more time, evidence that magic isn’t all bad.” He knows he sounds desperate and when Gwaine grasps his arm it’s to calm him down.

“Have you ever thought about showing Arthur just that? You’re the best person to do that since Arthur already trusts you and he knows you would never use it against Camelot.”

“No, you don’t understand. He will hate me. I will just be the next person to betray him with magic. I’ve kept this secret so long, he will think that magic made me do it, that it corrupted me, like it did Morgana. He has seen so much evil from those using magic that he will be blinded by it. If I can’t make him see the good in magic it will only harden his stand against it.” He shakes his head and a bitter laugh escapes him. “Gwaine, I probably can’t even tell him once he legalized it, it would break his heart.”

“You really are an idiot, aren’t you?” Gwaine shakes his head and sighs. “Arthur isn’t stupid. Yes, he’s a hothead and will throw you into the cells and rage how you betrayed him, but he will cool down and see all the good you did, how you protected him and Camelot and then he will apologize. Or not, you know him.” The last is said with a wink and a small grin, but Merlin is still stuck on the sentence before that.

“How do you know I used it to protect Camelot?”

“Well, for what else would you use it? Polishing his armor?”

Merlin looks at him sheepishly and Gwaine laughs again, “Of course, that’s rather useful too. But aside from that, looking back on it, it didn’t matter how outnumbered we were, we never got really hurt and we’re not _that_ good, despite what the princess thinks.”

Gwaine is grinning, but suddenly he looks utterly devastated. Before Merlin can ask what’s wrong, he throws his arms in the air.

“Argh! I’m an idiot! When we were on that stupid quest and we got separated I thought you would end up as wyvern fodder for sure. And when I found you, you didn’t have a scratch. Wyverns are not known to let anyone get away. How didn’t I see that? And those convenient branches falling on enemies’ heads or them suddenly tripping over nothing? It’s so obvious now. How could I not see that?”

“Well, Gaius says it’s because neither of you wants to see it, so you make excuses.”

Now it’s Merlin’s turn to smile. Gwaine looks outraged at his own blindness and Merlin has to admit that some of his stunts had been rather obvious.

“Be that as it might, it’s still a miracle no one found out. You have to be more careful.”

“Right, so how would you like me to keep saving you? Would it be better if I would make their hearts stop and the ground swallow them up before any of you noticed them?”

“Yes! Wait, can you actually do that?”

For a moment Merlin thinks he’s said too much, that Gwaine will look at him with fear and disgust once he finds out how powerful exactly the young warlock is. But Gwaine just looks at him like a child that found out Santa Claus is real – Merlin almost grins when he realizes that thought is a leftover from one of the memories he would rather forget and thinks that not all of them are bad ones.

“Yes.” He admits softly. “I don’t know about stopping their hearts because I never tried and I never will, but commanding the earth is not so difficult. If you want to, I can show you.” He tries to get up and immediately the world tilts around him. Instead of hitting the ground he is caught by strong arms and settled back on the cot. When the world stops spinning he sees Gwaine watching him worriedly.

“Should I get Gaius? You turned a little white there.”

“No, it’s fine.” At Gwaine’s raised eyebrow he grins sheepishly. “I might have magic, but apparently I still need just as much time to recover as anyone else.”

Gwaine snorts and sits down again on the chair next to Merlin’s cot.

“And you still have no sense of self-preservation or you wouldn’t be wounded at all.”

For a second Merlin contemplates telling Gwaine about the limits of his powers but then decides against it. He suddenly feels very tired and can’t seem to keep his eyes open.

Gwaine’s voice is soft when he says “Don’t worry, you can show me tomorrow. Gaius will have my head if I keep you awake much longer.”

Merlin doesn’t even have time to reply before sleep claims him.

 

At night he dreams. He dreams about Arthur dying at Mordred’s hand, but instead of just falling Arthur looks directly into his eyes. _Why didn’t you stop this? You were supposed to stop this!_ The kings lips don’t move, his voice echoing directly in Merlin’s mind. When Mordred’s voice joins it’s like a punch to the gut. _This is not me! Don’t let me turn into this! You have to stop this!_

With a gasp Merlin awakes to the soft snores of his friend. His heart is hammering in his chest and it takes him a moment to notice the third person in the room, when he does he flinches so violently under the assault of unwanted memories that he knocks his head on the bedpost. He curses the sudden pain but is at the same time perversely thankful for it as it pulls him back into the here and now.

Watching Arthur sleep on the floor next to his bed brings back other memories as well of a night shared in a small room and the quiet talk before a battle. He doesn’t know why Arthur prefers the hard floor over the softness of his royal bed, but what really worries him is the fact that Arthur looks utterly worn out. There are deep shadows under his eyes and for him to have fallen asleep on the floor he must have been absolutely exhausted. Merlin’s brow furrows and with a flash of gold in his eyes he’s summoned the spare blanket from the other room to cover Arthur and the kings head is suddenly cushioned on a pillow that a moment before had been in Merlin’s cupboard. He is so focused on not waking the monarch that he doesn’t notice the absence of snores from Gwaine. When he does he whirls around to find Gwaine grinning at him like a schoolboy who just saw something he shouldn’t. He grins at Merlin and goes right back to sleep.

Merlin shakes his head and sighs. It might have seemed like a good idea to tell his friend his secret, but now Merlin fears to be the knight’s personal source of entertainment for the foreseeable future. The thought makes him snort and he thinks how much better it is to fear something like that than anything else.

Sleep claims him not much later and this time he dreams about a Camelot where magic is no longer outlawed and he himself is standing at Arthur’s side wearing a ridiculous hat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always hated how no one ever suspected anything when it came to Merlin's magic. No one questioned all the convenient things that kept happening and he was always so alone :( I just had to make Gwaine realize the truth about his friend.


	5. Trying something new

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it took me so long to upload another chapter, life just got crazy :(  
> Anyways, here it is, have fun :)

When Merlin wakes up, it’s to Gwaine eating breakfast that looks suspiciously like it was supposed to be Merlin’s.

Merlin makes the bowl of soup float to him and grins at Gwaine’s dumbfounded look.

He quickly recovers and says around the last bread, “So you can make things float. I saw that last night. Show me something else?”

Merlin snorts, shakes his head and points at Arthur who is still fast asleep next to his bed. Gwaine rolls his eyes and whispers rather loudly, “Don’t worry, he is out cold. I don’t think he slept much in the last few days with hunting the men that attacked you and trying to protect Gwen from Morgana and Lord Byron arriving. And he _did_ spend most of his free time here.”

He shakes his head, grinning. “And you still think he would kill you if he knew.”

Merlin sighs and whispers a few words that will ensure their conversation is not heard by the king.

“I already told you, it’s not just because I think he would kill me. And why on earth would he hunt those bandits himself? Isn’t that your job?”

Instead of looking guilty, Gwaine shrugs and says, “What do you think we were doing? We haven’t slept much either; we just didn’t have a very boring lord to attend to.”

Now it’s Merlin’s turn to look guilty. He did see the dark shadows under the knights’ eyes and he knows the search for the bandits is for nothing, Freya was rather thorough in killing every last one of them. Somehow Gwaine learned how to read him incredible well in the last few hours because he laughs and pats Merlin’s shoulder and then gets up to leave. “You know, maybe you should tell the princess that you took care of those bandits before he runs himself and everyone else into the ground.”

Before Merlin can say anything he is gone and the young warlock knows that getting up is probably not a good idea if last night was any indication of his non-existent strength. He releases the magic still shielding Arthur from sound when Gwaine pops in again. “I’m still waiting for a proper demonstration. See you!”

The last one is shouted trough the closed door and Merlin grinds his teeth as Arthur wakes with a start. He has to bite the inside of his cheek to not laugh out loud at the lost look on Arthur’s face, that quickly morphs into a horrified one when he realizes where he is. The king tries to get up and promptly gets tangled in the blanket. This time Merlin can’t hide the laughter that bubbles up at the ridiculous sight.

“What the …?” Then he notices Merlin watching him. “Merlin, you’re awake!” That exclamation is followed by Arthur finally winning against the blanket and for a moment Merlin thinks the king might embrace him, but no, of course not, that wouldn’t be proper and so he simply grabs Merlin’s good shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re awake. Are you alright? No, don’t answer that, you will lie anyway.” He sits down in the chair Gwaine had just abandoned and rakes his hands through his hair.

“What were you thinking? You could have died!” His lets out a gush of air and the look he sends Merlin is sad and defeated and for a moment Merlin wants to tell the king the truth. Then he swallows and the lie comes easily.

“I already told the knights what happened. They chased me and I got –“

The king interrupts him with a raised hand.

“I already know what happened, Leon told me. I don’t believe you still get lost in these woods, seeing as you’re always picking herbs for Gaius and accompany me on hunting trips.”

The look he sends Merlin is one of utter distrust and tells him exactly what Arthur thinks of that blatant lie and Merlin wonders when everyone stopped believing him.

“Sire, I …”

“No, leave it. My head hurts enough without trying to follow your made up explanations for returning to the castle half dead and with a warning about Morgana trying to hurt Gwen.”

His sigh is weary and he shakes his head.

“If you don’t want to tell me, fine, just don’t lie to me anymore Merlin, please. You almost died. Your fever was so high and it wouldn’t come down. You kept hallucinating and mumbling about …stuff. I don’t even know what to make of half of it and the rest was …” He breaks off and manages to get his hair to stand up even more when he runs his hand through it again. Merlin has no idea what to say because even if he could remember anything he said it’s not like he could tell Arthur what it meant.

“Just … What the hell, Merlin? I mean, Gaius told me I should’ve given you some time off lately, that the Disir did something and that you couldn’t sleep. Why didn’t you just say something?”

And that’s better, because that’s Arthur trying to deflect the guilt he feels and that’s something Merlin knows how to handle. He pushes himself up and sends Arthur an angry look.

“Like you would’ve listened. Besides, I was fine. The Disir simply gave me something to think about. It didn’t harm me in any way, that’s not what it does.” The last part he added only so Arthur wouldn’t blame a magical being for something that wasn’t its fault.

He crosses his arms and continuous, “And I only got lost because bandits were chasing me. They didn’t exactly let me take a look around while I tried to get away.”

Arthur has the decency to flinch at that, but he wouldn’t be Arthur if he gave up that easily.

“Of course I would have listened. You are useless anyway; I probably wouldn’t even notice your absence.”

“So you would dress yourself and get your breakfast and clean your room?”

“No, but I am the king, there are plenty of servants that could do that.”

“Then why don’t you just name one of them as your new manservant, Gaius is keeping me busy as it is and I could use some time off.”

“To go to the tavern with Gwaine?” There is hurt in Arthur’s voice and Merlin tries really hard not to smile at that.

“No, you don’t pay me enough for that.”

Arthur laughs. “If you’re well enough to argue for a raise maybe you should get back to work so you can earn it.”

“Do you miss me so much already? I bet your chambers are a mess.”

“Actually, they’re in better order than before you left; George is very good at what he does.”

“Well, then he can keep doing it, I’m sure he’d be thrilled.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin. He bores me to death. Besides, I need someone capable to attend to the important guests, someone, who won’t forget to bring them breakfast at the right time, addresses them properly, or who doesn’t drop their belongings because a butterfly distracted him.”

“Heh, I only ever do that with you.”

“And why would you do that?”

“Because you’re a prat! And you definitely need to be reminded of that time and time again. We can’t have your ego grow anymore, or you wouldn’t fit into your armor.”

“Merlin, you can’t talk to me like that!”

But Arthur’s smiling and he’d known that that was a likely reply when he had asked. It’s just his way of making sure they’re alright. Merlin can’t deny similar intentions when he started it, he just couldn’t stand Arthur looking so worn out and defeated.

“So, how are you really?”

For a moment Merlin is tempted to continue their banter but decides against it at Arthur’s look of honest concern.

“I’m fine, really. The wound is almost healed. Gaius said I shouldn’t carry anything heavy, aside from that I will be able to return in maybe two days, three at most.”

“Good, four days it is.”

“Sire-“

“No, Merlin, I’m a busy man, I don’t need to look after you too so you don’t overwork yourself.” The look he sends his servant says all too clearly how that is a very likely scenario and Merlin has to agree.

“So you’re actually giving me the day off?” He asks as innocently as he can manage while simultaneously grinning widely.

“Only so there will be more to do for you when you’re finally able to work again.” That doesn’t dampen Merlin’s good mood at all and he is still grinning when Arthur sighs and gets up.

“I need to debrief the knights and double the patrols; we still haven’t found the men who did this to you and threatened Gwen.”

This however wipes the grin right off of his face and he struggles to reach for Arthur to stop him.

“Sire, wait! I … uhm … I don’t think you will find them. They’re, well, they’re dead.” At Arthur’s exasperated look he inhales deeply, thinks what the hell and decides to tell Arthur the truth, or at least part of it.

“They got to close to the Lake of Avalon and, well, they did try to kill me and, you see, the Lady of the Lake really didn’t like that, so she killed them. And then kind of made their bodies disappear. And, yeah, you won’t find them.”

He ends lamely and has to look at Arthur, because it’s important, that he knows that Freya didn’t just kill the bandits, but did it to protect him.

Arthur stares at him and Merlin thinks the king might start to laugh and tell him he used to be better at lying; instead Arthur nods and says, “That would explain the strange marks we found near the lake. You really should get some more rest.”

And then he is gone and Merlin is left wondering if maybe he should tell the truth more often, it seems to work rather well after all.


	6. Of playing around and changing destiny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is not much happening in this one, i just wanted to give poor Merlin a few days off :)

The next days he spends mostly in bed and in Gaius’ chambers. He is still weak from fever and Gaius makes sure he catches up on lost sleep and meals. He vividly remembers having to protect Arthur from an enchanted Gwen and enjoys the peace and quiet – and the many very loud visits from Gwaine who wants to see as much of his magic as possible. Merlin shows him first reluctantly since he fears Gwaine might still reject him the more he knows about his immense powers. However, if anything the knight soon has a new found respect for the slighter man. Soon the magical demonstrations range from making things appear from thin air to shaping water or fire to their liking. He even makes the floor disappear around Gwaine, just as Gaius comes back from a trip to the lower town. The lecture they get for that puts an end to it and the next time Gwaine stops by the next day it’s to tell Merlin the king wishes to see him.

 

“Ah, Merlin, Gaius told me you are fit to work again. Just on time I might add, since George will have to attend to Lord Sarrum and I wanted to give him a few days off before that. You know what a brute Sarrum can be and he will need all his strength.”

Merlin is glad that Arthur is getting dressed and can’t see the look of horror that flashes across his face at the name of the fearsome lord and the memory it triggers. By the time Arthur steps around the dressing screen Merlin is trying his best not to look too worried.

“Since I know you’re not allowed to carry heavy stuff, you can start by cleaning my room, polishing my armor, boots and the buttons on my red jacket and sharpening my sword. When you’re done with that I need you to help the other servants to clean the guest rooms and to mock out the stables.”

Merlin groans (silently) and rolls his eyes (wisely facing away from the king) and starts by clearing the table. He doesn’t miss the fact that Arthur watches him more closely, probably for any signs of pain.

 

“How is it he never leaves me alone when I want him to? I’d have been done ages ago if I could’ve used magic.”

Gwaine chuckles and gets up from the small cot for Merlin, who drops down on it face first and groans miserably.

“Maybe he knows after all and just wants to annoy you into telling him.”

Merlin snorts and makes the chair Gwaine sits on collapse under him without looking. Gwaine is not even angry, just laughs and sits down on the table instead. Merlin still can’t believe how well the knight takes him having magic.

“At least he won’t make you attend to that bastard of a lord later. He knows you’re not in any shape to – Woah, what’s wrong?”

At Gwaine’s words Merlin suddenly remembers why he came down to the knight’s quarters in the first place and he gets up so fast he gets a little dizzy.

“He’s going to kill him. Gwaine, we have to stop him. Daegal is probably already trying to get to me and I can’t let him die. I won’t be able to help Arthur, Gwaine, you need to-“

“Merlin, mate, slow down. Take a deep breath. How do you know that? Where will you be and who on earth is Daegal?”

“I… just know, okay? A friend told me and I just know. I can’t explain it to you, but it _will_ happen. Or at least I think it will. I mean, it did last time, but Gwen’s still herself and now Sarrum doesn’t have an ally and…”

Here he stops and sits down again. He knows it happened – or will happen? – but this time Gwen’s not enchanted, Elyan’s still alive and Merlin wonders if changing destiny isn’t a little more complicated than he thought.

“So, Gwen’s not been herself when exactly?” Gwaine asks into the silence that stretched in the room. His voice is tight and Merlin sighs before deciding that he could use another ally. Gaius will always be his most important ally and if it’s just for his knowledge about everything magical – which it isn’t. But sometimes he needs someone like Gwaine, a friend rather than a mentor, so he tells him as much as he dares to.

“Never. She’s not been enchanted just like Elyan didn’t die; those are just things a friend showed me, because she hopes it will help me to keep Arthur alive. That’s how I knew I had to stop them from leaving for their father’s grave and about Morgana’s plans. In the … visions Morgana enchanted Gwen and tried to use her to kill Arthur. They plotted to have him assassinated while signing the peace treaty. I stopped the assassin, but a friend of mine got killed in the process. This time, no one will get hurt, I swear.”

He is back to pacing and already wondering if Morgana will still try to use Daegal to get him out of the way or if he might meet the boy in some other way.

“In other words, we have to stop a mad lord from killing the princess. Sounds like any other day in Camelot.”

Merlin can’t help but stare at his friend who just disregarded most of what he heard and is not worried in the least.

“Maybe we can get Gwen to act like she wants her husband dead and they will plot the same thing. It would be easily prevented. We could even use it as a reveal-magic-to-Arthur scenario. He can’t arrest you after you saved him in front of the court and prevented a potentially disastrous political incident.”

Gwaine is nodding to himself as if that plan would make any sense and Merlin can’t help but admire his enthusiasm.

“Now we only have to get to this Daegal and not let him die or is he not dying if Gwen’s not really trying to kill Arthur? I didn’t get that part.”

He is so baffled by the knight taking everything he just said in stride, that it takes Merlin a moment to realize Gwaine asked him something.

Shaking his head he answers “He lured me away so I wouldn’t be able to stop Gwen. Morgana tried to kill me and he had a change of heart. He helped me to get back to Camelot in time and then he died.”

He swallows and doesn’t say how the boy died in his arms and how he still feels guilty about his death even though it didn’t happen yet.

He doesn’t have to. Gwaine sees the pain and guilt that flicker across his face and grasps his good shoulder. “We will save him too. Don’t worry. This time you have an ally and this Sarrum is all alone. Now, how about we get some sleep and tomorrow we make a plan?”


	7. Pains and Plans

Daegal doesn’t come to lure him away and so Merlin is right there when Lord Sarrum tells Arthur about Morgana and Aithusa. He almost gets through it, but when he hears how the little dragon suffered at the lord’s hands, how she couldn’t grow and how much pain she was in he sees red. The jug he uses to refill Arthur’s and Gwen’s goblets shatters on the marble floor at the same time as the legs of Lord Sarrum’s chair give out and the man hits the floor with a surprised shout.

In the ensuing chaos Merlin manages to get out into the corridor where he hides in an alcove and steadies his shaking legs against the wall. He tries to get the very vivid images of a trapped Aithusa out of his head and to calm his magic enough to return to the feast.

“Merlin, you there?”

His heart nearly stops at Gwaine’s voice and it takes him a moment to answer.

“I’m here.” He says and steps out so Gwaine can see him. He has to hide his shaking hands behind his back.

“Good, I thought you might have run off to get a sword and kill that bastard right now.”

There is no laughter in Gwaine’s voice and he grips his sword’s handle hard enough for his knuckles to whiten.

“No, I just needed a moment.”

“I guess we all need one after that story. Thankfully that asshole’s chair collapsed or I might have had to do something drastic.”

Now there is a grin on Gwaine’s face and he loosens his grip slightly, but never lets go entirely. Merlin gives a small smile in return but doesn’t offer an explanation. Instead he says “Could you keep an eye on him tonight? I need to speak to someone and I won’t be back until sunrise.”

“Is this another one of your special friends I don’t know about?” Gwaine sound honestly curious and Merlin already told him that he still has some secrets to keep since they’re not his to share, so the young warlock doesn’t feel to guilty about shutting him down immediately.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“Alright, just, don’t get in any trouble.” And with that Merlin is alone again.

 

“I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me! I could have saved her!”

He is so angry he can feel his magic burning underneath his skin, trying to break free. He’s panting hard and his fingernails are going to leave marks where he presses them into the heels of his hands.

“It was her choice to ally herself with the witch. The consequences are hers to bear.”

At Kilgharrah’s calm words he is completely stunned, his magic however breaks free and the first bolt of lightning hits the ground not far from them, he figures it won’t be the last one.

“So you just left her there. Alone. In a hole. Where she couldn’t grow. Where she was crippled. Because you thought that decision she made as a child should leave her scarred and silent.” The anger radiates off of him in waves and even the huge dragon looks uncomfortable for a moment.

“She wasn’t a mere child, she was a dragon. Your children might not be able to make founded decisions, a dragon is. It was not my fault she decided to safe the witch.”

“Not your _fault_? No, I bet it was her destiny to get trapped for helping someone. And you would never interfere with destiny. Well, let me tell you something. I’m done. Done with prophecies and destinies and losing everything for nothing! I’m just done.”

He turns his back on the dragon and breaths through clenched teeth, trying to reel his magic back in before he accidently starts a fire. Behind him Kilgharrah bends his head even lower.

“Your anger is not only fueled by the wrongs done to Aithusa. What did you learn from the Lady of the Lake?”

At that Merlin whirls around to stare at him, anger forgotten for the moment.

“How do you…?”

“I felt powerful magic at work at her lake. It was not yours so it must have been hers. Now you talk about abandoning you destiny. It is the only time you could have learned something to make you consider this. Am I wrong?”

“I… no, you’re right. I just didn’t realize you know her.”

“I do not know her, she is known. It was prophesized a powerful sorceress would die and would then protect the gate to Avalon and guide Arthur on his way back to this world. As you can see, this prophecy was fulfilled.”

Merlin’s anger flares up again, the next bolt hitting the ground.

“So you’re telling me it doesn’t matter because whatever I do I can’t change my destiny? Let me tell you something. I can and I already did. It’s not written in stone and I will do whatever I can to keep changing it, because I. Will. Not. Loose. Them. Again.”

His last words are each followed by a lighting strike. He would find it a little overdramatic would he even notice them. Kilgharrah however does.

“Calm your magic young warlock or you will set fire to these woods.”

Merlin tries and manages to stop the bolts, the dark clouds above their heads stay.

Kilgharrah sighs. “I understand your anger. It pained me too to learn about Aithusa’s predicament but there was nothing I could do and neither could you without risking your life. She is alive and maybe she will recover.”

He lowers his head so it’s equal with Merlin’s.

“About the other source for your anger; I do not know what you saw and will not remind you of the consequences of changing ones destiny. I will however tell you that I will be looking forward to seeing you succeed, I too wish for another way to interpret the old prophecies, maybe you can give them a new meaning.”

With that he spreads his massive wings and takes to the sky.

 

The next morning Merlin is not even all the way awake when Gwaine bursts into his room to tell him about a plan involving a sharp sword in a friendly duel, a knife thrown at the right moment and men positioned at tactical points throughout Camelot. Merlin dulls the blade during a quiet moment in the armory while the king’s armor polishes itself, turns the blade on its owner before it can hit the queen in her gardens and Gwaine distracts half the town –including Sarrum’s men- by starting a brawl big enough to attract the attention of guards and citizens alike. They can’t prove it was Sarrum who ordered the hit on Gwen, the blade is blunt and as soon as the guards arrive to break up the brawl the men disappear.

 “How do you stand that? Saving the idiots ass and then getting punished for it?” Gwaine wines while Merlin bandages his bloody knuckles and applies a salve to the many bruises the knight sustained.

Arthur had not been happy that one of his finest knights had started a brawl. Gwaine had no evidence for the necessity of his actions, had to grit his teeth and accept his temporary banishment from any and all taverns for the time being.  Now he sits in Merlin’s room and Merlin does his best not to laugh out loud at his friend’s words.

“You get used to it.” He says instead and uses a quick healing spell to lessen the pain.

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to get used to it. We have to stop Sarrum before I’m out of a job and you accidently revealed your magic. That stunt with Gwen was too close.”

Merlin nods and wonders which might come first.

 

Sarrum without Gwen turns out to still be rather resourceful and persistent. His next plan is to poison Arthur’s food –the poor rats never knew what hit them–, an assassin hiding in the armory –Gwaine, expecting something like that made quick work of him– and a snake in the royal bed –only his instinctual use of magic saved him from a probably very painful death and Merlin swore from now on to always make the bed in the morning. None of the incidents could be traced back to Sarrum and the lord never makes any mistake, never flinches at hinted accusations or says something incriminating. Merlin starts to mentally cross of the days left of the man’s visit.

 

At the day of the peace treaty signing, Merlin is nervous enough for even Arthur to notice.

“Stop fidgeting, you’re making me nervous.”

“Sorry, Sire.”

“Merlin, it will be fine. Sarrum isn’t stupid; he won’t try anything with half of Camelot’s army in the room.”

Merlin concentrates on fastening the last strap on Arthur’s shoulder and doesn’t answer. He tries to figure out if his bad feeling comes from knowing what _could have_ happened in another time or because something bad _will_ happen.

“Honestly, what’s wrong with you today? You weren’t this quiet when we rode out to face the dragon.”

And Merlin realizes what really bothers him is not the eventual attempt on Arthur’s life, it’s what Gaius said. _You can’t save everyone_. So who is he going to lose? If not Daegal, who might take his place? A picture of Gwaine dying in Percival’s arms comes unbidden to him and whatever Arthur sees when he looks at his face is enough for the King to grab his shoulder.

“It will be fine, Merlin. It doesn’t matter if he tries to throw another knife at Gwen or to assassinate me with poison or a deadly snake in my bed, my knights know what to look for and I put Gwaine in charge of finding the best hiding points for any assassin, it will be fine. So stop worrying, nothing will happen.”

He squeezes Merlin’s shoulder once more before letting go. Merlin is sure his astonishment is written clearly on his face.

“You know about that?”

“Of course I do, I’m not an idiot.” The king snorts and fastens his sword belt around his hips. “Besides, Gwaine usually doesn’t start a brawl this big, he knows to keep it to the taverns.”

“But why didn’t you say anything? You banned him from the taverns for weeks!”

“Yes, so he wouldn’t get himself into any more trouble.”

Merlin shakes his head and allows himself a quick smile before he turns serious again.

“Just be careful, okay? I won’t be there to save your royal ass.” Only the knights, the queen and Geoffrey of Monmouth as the courts scribe will be in the hall at Arthur’s orders. It is both to impress and intimidate Sarrum as well as a safety precaution.

The king just rolls his eyes. “I’m perfectly capable of doing that myself, thank you very much.”

Merlin doesn’t have time answer before the door opens to Gwen and Arthur’s attention is immediately on her. Merlin leaves the room to give them a moment alone.

 

When Arthur enters the great hall Merlin is on his way to the gallery, not surprised at all to find Gwaine waiting for him in traveling clothes as to not scare away any potential assassin. Merlin’d told the knight about the gallery and the perfect assassination point and at his request Gwaine had dropped a few hints about it. They hope the assassin might have heard of it so they can catch him red handed. Even if Sarrum tries anything else Merlin could easily interfere, the gallery is as good a hiding point for him as it is for anyone else.

“Did you see anyone?”

“No. But I just got here. Maybe he went up earlier.”

Merlin nods and starts to run, Gwaine right behind him. When they reach the door to the gallery he stops and takes a steadying breath before he slowly opens it – and hastily closes it again, just in time to avoid the dagger thrown at his head.

“What now? You think you can kill him from out here?”

“No. But I have an idea.”

He alters the spell he used to shield Arthur from sound so it would protect them from sharp or pointy objects. He is not sure if the spell will work since he never tried to just alter s a spell, usually he first consults his book, but they don’t have time for that and he figures he will repel anything thrown at them anyways. When he opens the door again he anticipates the dagger thrown at them and stops it midair and flings it to the side. The man however uses the short moment this takes to throw another, that one aimed at Gwaine and Merlin doesn’t have time to stop that one too and it hits Gwaine in the chest. The knight goes down with a surprised grunt. Merlin feels like his blood turns to ice. With a flash of gold in his eyes he throws the assassin back, just as he shoots his bolt. The man hits the wall with a sickening crunch and slumps down. Merlin doesn’t wait to see if he might get up again, instead he whirls around falling to his knees next to his friend.

“Gwaine! No, no, no, you can’t die, not again. Please, you _can’t_!” The dagger had pierced Gwaine’s cloths just under the heart –and had slide off of his skin without leaving a scratch. Before Merlin can do more than stare at the gash his friend groans and opens his eyes.

“Gwaine?!”

“Yeah. I-“ He breaks off and winces when he tries to move. Talking a very measured breath he continuous. “Okay, I’m not fine. But I’m also not dead.” Breathing out he closes his eyes. “I think I broke a rib…” He tries to move again and immediately turns an unsettling shade of gray. “Scratch that, more like three.”

Merlin is so relieved he throws his arms around the knight, only to let go again at a painful hiss from Gwaine.

“You’re not dead! It worked!” Laughingly Merlin tries to help Gwaine to get up when he remembers the assassin. With that comes the realization that the throne room is in chaos, orders are being shouted and there are men running up the stairs to the gallery. A moment later they’re surrounded by Elyan, Percival and enough knights to make Merlin fear for the stability of the old wooden construction.

“What happened here?” Merlin would recognize that voice everywhere and his heart leaps into his throat, because that means the bolt missed both the king and queen or Arthur wouldn’t be here.

Gwaine tries to stand up more fully and immediately doubles over, without Percival’s quick help he would’ve collapsed back to the floor.

“Don’t try to move. Percival, get him back to Gaius; he has at least three broken ribs on his left side.” Gwaine sends him half a glare, knowing that Merlin just made sure he wouldn’t interfere with whatever story the servant is going to come up with.

“Well? I’m waiting.”

Merlin takes a deep breath, turns around to face his king and does what he always does: he lies.

 

“And Arthur really believed that?” Gwaine looks at him bewildered at Merlin really can’t blame him. He told Arthur that Gwaine had managed to fight the assassin and smash his head against the wall, but not before the man had hit him hard enough to break several ribs and had managed to shoot at Arthur. Sarrum died like he did in Merlin’s vision, pierced by the bolt meant for Camelot’s king.

The fact that Gwaine fought a powerful warrior and won while he couldn’t even stand upright when the other knights arrived he attributed to adrenalin; the dagger not cutting into his skin was sheer luck, as was the fact that the dagger aimed at Merlin missed him completely.

“You know, he really makes it easy to lie to him. Even without three broken and two fractured ribs I would have had a hard time taking that guy down; I saw how he fought Arthur, no way would I have managed to win against him so quickly.” Gwaine shakes his head and sighs.

“Whatever, as long as it got me back into the tavern I won’t complain.”

With a furrowed brow he adds “Although I don’t understand why you didn’t tell him you managed to get a hit in and kill him, maybe the princess would give you the day off.”

“I already told you, that’s completely unbelievable.”

“You gotta know, with all the practice you have at lying.” Despite the harshness of his words Gwaine is grinning at him and Merlin can’t be angry at the man, he’s still giddy that he didn’t lose him, so instead he rolls his eyes.

“Thank you for realizing that. Now, lay down, I want to try something.”  He spreads his hands above Gwaine’s ribs and whispers a spell he’d last heard himself use in the visions of the future. A rather far away future; if he remembers correctly he doesn’t find this spell for at least 300 more years. One of the first things he did after waking up was to write everything down he could remember, including spells and incantations. This one is not very difficult and after a moment Gwaine makes a surprised sound and inhales deeply for the first time since the fight.

“What did you do?”

“I repaired your ribs. Mostly. I think. You should heed Gaius’ warnings and not participate in training, but at least you’re not in danger of puncturing anything vital while turning over in your sleep.”

“Wow, that’s fantastic! I don’t feel anything at all.”

“That might be the pain medication you took earlier.”

“Ha! I knew this magic of yours would come in handy. Although you should probably not alter anymore spells on a whim.” The blade could not harm him, the damage however simply got reverted to one of a blunt impact, hence his broken ribs. Gwaine thinks it’s not a useful spell, Merlin disagrees wholeheartedly.

“You didn’t die, and I can heal broken ribs. I say it worked quiet well.”

“Yeah, it did, didn’t it?” Gwaine chuckles. Then he gets very serious. “Now, you want to tell me what the hell that was?” Merlin doesn’t have to ask what he means. He looks away and doesn’t meet Gwaine’s eyes.

“Did I die? In those visions or whatever you want to call it. Did I die up there because you didn’t use your magic?”

Merlin swallows and shakes his head. “You didn’t die. Not up there.” The second sentence is almost too quiet for Gwaine to hear.

“But I did die. And not from old age.” He takes Merlin’s silence as the affirmation it is. “Well that’s not really a surprise; I am a formidable knight after all.”

Merlin can hear the smile and returns it as best as he can and shoves the memory of a dying Gwaine deep down and ignores the part of his brain that sound suspiciously like Gaius telling him he can’t save everyone.

“I didn’t know you knew how to use such big words. You sure you’re not of noble upbringing?”

“According to my frequent visits of various drinking establishments and my vocabulary during the many hazardous and perilous adventures I shall point out that my eventual mentor of our fine language might turn over in his grave if that was indeed the case, my lord.” The last he adds after a second and with a ridiculous bow. Merlin doesn’t even try to fight the laughter that bubbles up at that sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just couldn't let Gwaine die up there, that would have been cruel. But i promise you that not all our beloved characters will survive this story. Just wait and see ;)


	8. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coming home is a good thing... right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god, I'm so sorry! I kind of didn't know how to continue from there and then I spent two weeks with my boyfriend and he kind of told me he'd break up with me, if I don't finish my studies anytime soon and somehow that got me writing again. Wich probably wasn't what he wanted^^  
> Anyways, here is the next chapter which works as kind of an opening to a small story arc. I love Hunith and Aithusa and wanted to see more of them, so here they are :)  
> I hope you all like it and forgive me for not updating sooner :)
> 
> Oh and by the way I always appreciate constructive criticism and people pointing out glaring mistakes :)

Merlin doesn’t go searching for Daegal, he knows its moot to do so, considering he has no idea where to look for him and it’s not like the boy is likely to stay at a place for any length of time, him being an orphan and very likely a thief. He does, however, keep his ears and eyes open for any information that could lead him to the boy. It’s not two weeks later that it pays off. He is close to Ealdor and if that isn’t the perfect opportunity Merlin waited for he doesn’t know what is. Until he hears about bandits attacking villages close to the border, a flying monster appearing always shortly before the attack and kidnapping young boys. The scouts say it’s a dragon, but that can’t be since the king killed the last one and dragons aren’t interested in kidnapping young boys. Merlin has absolutely no idea why Aithusa would do something like that and isn’t surprised in the least when Arthur orders a patrol to be put together to look into the matter and Gaius isn’t surprised when Merlin insists on accompanying Arthur and his knights.

“So, is this the same dragon we fought in these caves? The one that mysteriously disappeared after you told us you would distract it?” They set up camp an hour ago and Merlin and Gwaine are collecting firewood. True to form Gwaine uses the opportunity to ask Merlin questions he doesn’t really want to answer, making the young man sigh.

“Her name is Aithusa. “ Merlin knows he looks about as happy as he feels as he adds, “Yes, the same one Sarrum had in his little prison, together with Morgana. I don’t know why she would have sided with her or why she is kidnapping little boys for her, but I intend to find out.”

“Or you wouldn’t be here, right?”

Merlin grimaces and has to admit, that yes, he would still be here, even if it weren’t for the rouge dragon and the bandits.

“Why didn’t you tell me you found the kid?” Gwaine asks, honestly curious and Merlin winces guiltily. The truth is, he never even considered telling the knight, not because he didn’t trust him, it’s simply so new for Merlin to have someone he could tell these things that it didn’t even occur to him.

Gwaine reads his thoughts on his face and chuckles softly. “Yeah, I know it takes some getting used to. Wasn’t any different for me when I came to Camelot.” Merlin looks up sharply and sees his friend smiling at him reassuringly.

“Thanks.” He mutters softly and Gwaine thankfully changes the topic back to orphan boys and dragons kidnapping children.

 

The reports about villages getting ravaged by both a dragon and bandits shortly afterwards don’t stop until they reach Ealdor. Arthur decided that, since the assailants’ path would take them close to the small village if not through and that with Hunith’s hut they have a place to stay for a night they could as well visit it. Merlin didn’t notice the odd look Arthur sends his way as he said that, Gwaine, however, did.

 

Seeing his mother again is… conflicting. He is more than happy to see her again, and yet he can’t help the guilt that assaults him at her kindness, remembering that he didn’t return to her after that horrible battle at Camlann until it had been too late. He hides it fast enough that she doesn’t notice and if he hugs her a little longer and tells her more often how much he loves being back and how good it is to be home – well he is only human.

 

It’s almost midnight when Hunith finds him outside, starring at nothing and wondering how he’s supposed to find Daegal and stop bandits, Aithusa _and_ Morgana without revealing his magic.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” She scolds good-naturedly. When he just shrugs his shoulders she sighs and sits down next to him. He immediately reaches out and takes her hand in his.

“Thank you. For everything. I know it must have been hard to raise me all on your own, especially with me being a sorcerer. I don’t think I ever appreciated that as much as I should have.” There is a lump in his throat and he is glad it’s almost a new moon so she won’t see the tears that are glistering in his eyes.

“Merlin, love, are you alright?” She asks and cups his cheek in her free hand. “Is there something troubling you? Did something happen?”

He closes his eyes and tries to feel just her. Her hands are calloused from too hard work and together with her soft scent more familiar than anything else. He promises himself that this time he will keep her from getting sick and she will live long enough for her hair to turn grey and her skin to get wrinkled.

He opens his eyes again and says, “I’m fine, mother. I just really wanted to tell you that. Is a son not allowed to cherish his mother once in a while?”

She smiles but the worry doesn’t quiet leave her eyes. “That handsome knight, Gwaine, does he know about you?”

That’s … not what he expected.

“I am your mother, I’m supposed to notice things like that.” The soft teasing in her voice and the crinkles around her eyes make him smile.

“He kind of tricked me into telling him the truth. Although he knew something was odd before that.” He confesses, the smile getting bigger as he remembers that night. “He’s a good man, he wouldn’t tell anyone.” He sighs and adds, “It’s good to have someone who knows besides Gaius. I don’t feel so alone anymore.” The confession comes easily and somehow makes his mother’s smile turn both sad and glad; he’ll never understand how women can express so many contradicting emotions at once.

“I’m happy for you.” She says and kisses his cheek. “You deserve someone you can trust with this, but, please, be careful.” Getting up she pulls him to his feet and again reprimands him softly. “I also know you’re not only here to visit me, so go to bed and get some sleep, it’s late.”

He does, but not before he embraced her once more.

 

The next day they rise before dawn. The knights are joking and laughing – and wouldn’t let Hunith or Merlin do anything. They make them sit on the small cot while they stoke the fire back to life and prepare breakfast using only what they brought from Camelot. Merlin smiles at and enjoys watching them while Hunith looks about as uncomfortable as one can be.

Getting up she tries to stop them from arranging their cloaks on the ground to have an indoor picnic. “My lords, please, this is beneath you. Let me set the table for you, it’ll be big enough, Merlin and I will eat later.”

“My lady, we actually like to not have to sit at a table and behave like we have a stick up our asses. It’s a nice change for once. Besides, this way you and Merlin can join us and we won’t have to wait for him afterwards.” Gwaine somehow manages to turn Hunith around and make her sit down again.

She wouldn’t be his mother if she were so easily deterred. “Then at least use the provisions from my pantry, you might need yours.”

“Most certainly not.” Gwaine almost looks offended at that and he bows ridiculously. “You must mistake us for mere barbarians. We are your guests and already enjoyed your delicious dinner; we can’t possible take any more provisions from you. After all, we are knights and need a lot more than one scrawny little boy.” At that his eyes flicker to Merlin who sees the mischief clearly written on the man’s face. “Let it be our way to thank you for your hospitality. It is the least we could do.” Now he grins openly and adds with a wink, “Plus, we won’t have to carry all of that stuff back to Camelot.”

Merlin snorts and Hunith looks at least a little more at ease with the situation, although she still insists on washing the dishes afterwards. If Elyan, Leon and Percival insist on her showing them the village after they’ve finished and the dishes are miraculously done by the time they get back – well there really isn’t anything she can do about that. She sighs, scolds them good-natured and then hugs them all before either of the knights can protest.

“Be safe, all of you.” Now it’s the knights’ turn to look uncomfortable, all of them sporting rather red cheeks and murmuring something about being knights and that they’re always safe and she really shouldn’t worry about them. They leave rather quickly to give Merlin and his mother a moment alone.

“Be careful.” She pulls him close and envelops him in a fierce hug. “If you ever need something, anything, you know I’ll be here to help you.” She pulls away slightly to kiss his cheek and touch her forehead against his. He can hear the tears in her voice. “My brave boy. I am so proud of you and your father would have been proud too. I love you. Always remember that.”

The lump is back in his throat and he can only nod.

“Good. Now, you should go, the others are waiting.” When she pulls back, her eyes are dry and her smile is a real one. She squeezes his hands once and waves them goodbye.

Merlin is glad neither of the knights comments about the tears glistening in his eyes or his brooding mood all day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you all like it so far :)


	9. Conversing with a dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin thinks that maybe he should start asking the right questions more often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next one, a little faster than the last and hopefully you'll like it :)

They find Aithusa the same way they always find what they’re looking for – by stumbling across her. It’s hard to tell who is more surprised; the dragon quenching its thirst at the river, the knights stumbling into the clearing on their search for said river or Merlin because he thinks as a dragonlord he should have noticed the dragon a little bit earlier. It’s good they’re all too stunned to try and kill her, which is good or Merlin would have had to do something really stupid to save her and the knights. It’s even better that Aithusa is too bewildered to roast them on the spot and instead disappears into the sky or Merlin would have been forced to reveal at least his ability to speak to dragons in a very unfortunate way. As it is the knights recover quickly and take off after her. Merlin’s protests to set up camp and wait with the hunt until tomorrow are naturally ignored.

They track her until darkness falls, forcing them to set up camp in the middle of the woods instead of the small clearing, with no water whatsoever close by and Merlin is pretty sure they followed the wrong trail for at least three miles.

It takes him three tries to start a fire and even then he only manages it with a little magic, the wood is just too damp.

 

As soon as the knights fell asleep Merlin leaves to call Aithusa. He makes sure he’s far enough away from their camp; not only because of the volume his voice will need to rise to but also because he wants to try to talk to Aithusa through his mind since she is apparently mute and he fears that Mordred might be able to overhear their conversation. The young knight had been rather quiet during the last weeks. Merlin wonders if it might have something to do with his changed behavior towards the druid boy. He stopped being openly antagonistic towards Mordred and even tried to get to know him better. Merlin wouldn’t say they are friends; however they are closer, even joking now and then. Merlin still doesn’t trust him completely, he probably never will, and yet he can’t help to feel like the biggest arse ever. Mordred isn’t a bad person, nothing like the man who fell at Camlann. He is kind, thoughtful and fiercely loyal to Arthur. Merlin knows why he changed, why he betrayed his king and friend and he saw what lay at the end of that road. It is however not as easy to see Mordred as just the man who is destined to kill their friend and he is not sure if by simply giving him a chance to prove him otherwise he’s not already changing what might come. He still can’t risk him overhearing his conversation with Aithusa.

When he reaches the clearing they surprised her at and calls for her he is surprised how fast she comes. Seeing her covering as far away from him as possible breaks his heart and Merlin can tell how scared she is and there’re arrows piercing her wings and more than a dozen ugly gashes covering her body. She shivers, not meeting his eyes. He tries to calm her – which is not as easy as it sounds in a language that is usually loud and booming.

Somehow it works. He gradually inches closer and when he is only a couple of feet away he sits down. She still eyes him warily but at least she’s not avoiding his gaze anymore. With a whispered word he conjures up a small blue orb in his hand and with another he lets it fly. It whirls around them, emitting a soft light. Merlin smiles at Aithusa’s obvious fascination with it and at a flash of his eyes it splits in two, then four and soon they’re surrounded by the orbs dancing around each other and making the shadows disappear. Slowly he reaches out to her and to his amazement she closes the distance on her own to bow her head slightly. Careful as to not to startle her he touches her forehead and opens his mind to her to tenderly ask, “Aithusa?”

If she wanted to she could ignore it, and he is more than relieved when he suddenly feels her answer. It’s different to how he usually talks with his mind to others; instead of words he feels and sees her answers – most likely because of her inability to speak.

She nudges him with her head when he stays too silent for too long and he snaps out of his depressing thoughts and smiles at her again.

“Sorry, I got lost in my head for a moment.” He feels hesitant amusement at that.

“If you want to, I could take out those arrows and heal you.” Surprise, fear, hesitation and uncertain hope.

“I promise I’ll be careful. It’ll hurt, but I’ll make it better.” More hope but also much more fear. He can feel her pulling away from his hand and trying to shut him out and all he feels for a moment is sadness and a burning anger at those who did this. He thinks he shielded those emotions but apparently he is wrong. Her eyes bore into his and he can feel her emotions running wild. He doesn’t know what makes her change her mind but after a moment she bows her head again and signals approval. He releases the breath he didn’t notice he held and slowly gets up to kneel before her. He starts with an ugly wound at her left front paw, well within her eyesight and easily treated. He uses water from the river and herbs and honey and only calls on his magic to make sure it doesn’t get infected. He’s still not as good as he thinks he should be at healing spells but he’s better than he was a few weeks ago.

The next wound is on her neck and she flinches slightly so he starts talking about all and nothing to distract her. When he gets up to start working on her wings she flinches when he touches a sensitive spot but otherwise seems to trust him completely.

He doesn’t have to ask for her to show him how they got in her wings in the first place and how she still managed to grab two boys. Translation: It didn’t kill me when they went in so it won’t kill me when they come out.

Merlin grins at her and only then notices how she is both proud and sad at that memory.

“Why did you have to take the boys?” The question is out before he can even think about it.

For a moment he fears he might have scared her off, instead it seems to have been the right question. He is assaulted by her memories; Morgana telling her it would be best if they’d separate for some time so the witch can form an alliance with a warlord _not_ fond of dragons; how she had been flying for many days when she met some children near a cave she’d spent the night in. They weren’t afraid of her and even came close enough to pet her a little bit, only for their parents to freak out and try to fight her off. How she came across a bandits’ camp and discussing their next raid and how they wanted to kidnap the children she’d played with to recruit them into their own ranks. The next day, before the bandits raided the village, she beat them to it and hid them in a cave high up in the mountains. She knew the bandits were likely to try their luck somewhere else and followed them to save the boys from the next village and then the next one and so on. During the night she would loot their camp for food for the boys, that’s how she’d gotten so hurt. The boys were all safe up in the mountains where no one could find them so it was worth it.

When it’s over Merlin can only stare. His hands hover above the last arrow and he feels like he might get sick. How much pain this wonderful creature went through for a handful children because some of them treated her nicely? It says a lot about how much kindness and love was shown to her until then that she reacted so strongly.

Sighing deeply he closes his eyes and says, “Thank you for showing me this. And for saving those boys. You did well.” On a whim he adds his mother’s last words to him. “I’m proud of you.” The rush of uncertainty he feels at that lasts only for a second before it’s replaced with warm affection, pride, gratefulness and, somehow, regret. It takes him a moment to realize she doesn’t regret saving the boys but attacking him all those weeks ago.

He smiles at her. “I’m not angry at you for that, you did it to protect someone you care about, that’s something I understand.” He assures her and starts to pull out the remaining arrow. She hums softly and shows him another memory, one he didn’t think she’d have, considering it’s the one of him naming her. The memory is filled with happiness at the first whispers of wind curling around her, delight, when she first notices all the small things in the new world and contentment at her name and how glad she is that it was him who helped her hatch. But there is also a hint of emptiness that only seems filled once she meets a woman lying on the forest ground unconscious. She doesn’t know how she does it or why, she simply does what seems right and when the woman opens her eyes she knows it was what she was supposed to do.

Merlin somehow manages to heal her wounds while watching all that. He doesn’t say anything but lets Aithusa feel his understanding of her actions and amazement at her powers. His resentment and incomprehension he keeps to himself.

Once he’s finished he sits down in front of her again. Putting his palm back on her forehead and says very carefully, “I need you to show me where the boys are. They need to be brought back home. And then I want you to tell me where exactly those bandits are.”

 

The cave she chose to hide the boys in is so far up the mountain that it’s not only almost unreachable but also impossible for Merlin to get the knights to come up here by accident. He’ll have to think about something. The bandits’ camp however is just over the next hill. With grim determination he climbs on Aithusa’s back and in mere moments they’re above it. He raises his hand and shouts, “Forbearnan!” The fire that rains down on the camp is accompanied by Aithusa’s.

The bandits don’t stand a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I alsways wondered why Merlin didn't just summon Aithusa, it didn't really make sense to me since he did it all the time with Kilgharra....?  
> The image I had in my head while writning this was obiously the one with Merlin and Aithusa sitting and those pretty little orbs dancing around them in case you haven't guessed ;)
> 
> Thanks for reading:)


	10. Finding what you’re looking for…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo again, long time no see... So sorry guys. I love you all for staying with me even though it takes me ages to upload the next chapter most of the time :(  
> I'd really like to promise you to better myself, yet I know that that is easier said than done. I don't have any idea where the chapter takes me when I start writing it and I don't post a chapter right away because most of the time I go back to it after a couple of days and change some things so it fits better with what I wrote afterwards. That's not an excuse to make you wait so long, just me trying to explain and hopefully you'll forgive me :)
> 
> Now, enough of my rambling, have fun with the story :)

It’s almost morning when he finally gets back to their camp.

When the knights wake up, Merlin already prepared breakfast, watered and saddled the horses and refilled the water skins. He is used to losing a night’s sleep and finding those boys as fast as possible is more important than him.

He gives the knights an hour to follow further in the direction they went the day before, only then does he give Aithusa the signal – making it too easy for them would probably be suspicious and he really wants them to be as oblivious as they can be, the destroyed bandits camp is going to be hard enough to explain.

He nudges her through their mental link and wonders if Mordred would be able to pick up on it. He watches the young knight carefully and isn’t surprised when he suddenly pulls his horse to a stop and sends Merlin a bewildered look. Merlin just grins and points upwards. Above them Aithusa dashes across the sky, roaring as she does and Merlin doesn’t think he imagines it sounding more cheerful than before. The knights all startle and Arthur shouts for them to give chase.

“Where did it go?” Gwaine asks, his horse dancing on the spot. After an hour of trying to keep up with a dragon they’ve foam in front of their muzzles and are quivering. The knights pat them reassuringly.

“I think I saw it flying up that mountain. Maybe its lair is up there.” Leon doesn’t sound too happy about that possibility and Merlin can’t blame him. The mountain looms over them and neither of their little group looks forward to climbing it. They hear Aithusa giving a last joyful cry and as one sigh deeply.

“Up it is.” Arthur says and dismounts. They tie the horses to the trees and leave their heavy cloaks.

“Maybe we should leave our armor down here too. It’s going to be difficult enough to climb with a sword, let alone several pound of heavy armor.” Gwaine suggests while eyeing the small path that soon gets lost between rocks.

“And face the dragon without any protection? No, that’s too dangerous. We will go as far as we can, if we can’t reach its lair we will turn around. Mordred, Elyan you stay down here with Merlin and the horses, there are still bandits somewhere around here and we can’t risk losing the provisions.”

“What? No! I’m coming with you!” Merlin just stops himself before he can say that without him they’d never stand a chance. Which would be true but sadly not what anyone would believe besides Gwaine and Mordred who are looking rather upset – for entirely different reasons.

“You sure it would be good idea to leave them down here? We don’t know how many bandits there are and they could overrun them, after all, three against one is not an even fight. Besides, if we’re really up against a dragon we need all the help we can get.” Elyan nods at Gwaine’s words, Merlin, however, can see that the king isn’t even slightly convinced. Merlin curses himself for not taking them by the burned down bandits’ camp.

To his surprise it’s Mordred who comes to his aid. “Sire, wouldn’t it be better if you’d take Merlin with you? He knows these mountains and maybe he can make out a possible lair faster and you might be able to surprise the beast. Without his guidance you’d probably get lost. Elyan and I can defend ourselves just fine, but with Merlin here we would also have to look out for him, it’d make fighting much more difficult.”

Arthur looks torn. Taking Merlin with them would give them an advantage, leaving him down here would keep him safe. It’s Aithusa who helps him to make up his mind by sending a huge burst of flames into the sky, accompanied by another cry, this one sounding distinctly less happy.

 “Alright, fine, you can come with us. But as soon as we so much as smell the dragon you’ll hide.”

“Yes, sire.” Merlin grins.

_Thank you._ he tells Mordred with his mind and the young knight shrugs. _Without you the dragon would probably roast them on the spot and there are no more bandits to worry about, we will be fine._

Wait, what? _How do you…?_

_I felt them dying._ The simple answer chills Merlin to the bone. At Merlin’s appalled face he gives a small smile. _I can always feel it. And you didn’t know I could so stop blaming yourself. It’s not as bad as it sounds and you have to worry about other things now. Like rescuing 17 children from a mountain._

Merlin notices how he doesn’t say _from a dragon_.

 

The trek up the mountain is excruciating. Merlin follows the path his magic found for them and wonders how on earth they are going to get the children down again.

“Do you really think this is the right path?” Arthur asks again. He’d asked the same question a dozen times already and every time Merlin had said _“Yes sire, it’s not far anymore.”_

This time however he stays silent and just points to the shadow barely visible and easily mistaken as just one of many. Merlin however knows it’s the cave Aithusa brought the children to.

 “You sure? It doesn’t look like much.” The doubt is clear in Arthur’s voice and Merlin doesn’t resist the urge to roll his eyes.

“Yes, I’m sure. It’s the only cave big enough for a dragon.” He stops and points to his left. “We can rest over there. The dragon won’t be able to see us and you need to rest before you can fight it.”

For a moment Merlin thinks Arthur might say something stupid like _No, Merlin, we will not rest, a king doesn’t need rest_ , but then he nods and redirects his steps to the cluster of boulders Merlin pointed towards. It’s a testament to how exhausted he is and Merlin for once is glad to not have to wear a heavy armor all day.

“Now that you have shown us the cave I want you to wait here for us.” Merlin expected something like that and replies easily “Sure, if you want to get lost. Just because you can see it now doesn’t mean you’ll see it after the next turn.” He shrugs and takes another sip from his water skin.

“Merlin, I’m not letting that dragon eat you, just because you think we wouldn’t be able to find a stupid path!”

Merlin doesn’t dignify that with a vocal answer, just points back the way they came – where there is no path visible whatsoever.

Arthur’s face crumbles and he sighs. “Alright. But as soon as we are close enough you _will_ hide. I don’t care if we get lost, but you will _not_ die in a fight against a dragon.” Arthur’s voice is fierce and there is something desperate in his eyes that makes Merlin swallow his scathing answer and he just nods. Aithusa won’t be anywhere near the cave either way.

They don’t rest for long, both the boys’ fate as much as the impending fight with the dragon making it impossible for them to truly relax.

 

Reaching the cave turns out to be the smallest problem of the day. The cave’s mouth opens up in front of them so suddenly Merlin instinctively checks for a spell that might have hidden it. However, even as Arthur pushes him behind a large boulder and places himself before it, he can tell that the entry is simply well-hidden and there are no more spells in or around the cave than on any other part of the mountain. Aithusa is also long gone, having smelled them long before and taken her leave.

The knights surround them both, weapons ready and faces grim. Merlin really wants to roll his eyes.

“Don’t you think that if there really was a dragon it would’ve already attacked us?” He manages to keep the sarcasm out of his voice – barely.

Arthur sends him a glare and inches forward. He gestures his knights to follow him and Merlin to stay where he is. With a quiet sigh Merlin complies. It’s not as if they’d get attacked by anything more vicious than a 12 year old. Merlin leans back against the stone and waits. A moment later there is a shout and then the clinging of metal against metal, another shout, this time Arthur’s _don’t fight them, they’re_ kids _!_ and then more shouting from the knights and their attackers before suddenly it’s completely quiet again. Merlin gets up and carefully walks into the cave. He rounds the corner just behind the entrance and stands in the real cave. It’s as big as a cathedral and just as high. And with plenty corners and shadows for about fifteen children to have surprised Arthur and the knights enough to almost overpower them, considering Leon is bleeding sluggishly from a wound on his leg, Percival has more scratches on his arms than Merlin can count, Gwaine is sporting a rather nasty gash along his jaw and Arthur’s blond hair is matted with blood. Their wounds don’t make their hands shake while they hold their swords up high and point them at the circle of boys in the middle of the cave. Merlin takes one look and knows Daegal isn’t among them.

They’re all panting hard and for a second Merlin regrets not following them or warning either party beforehand. He swallows his guilt and raises an eyebrow.

“Hard fight?” Arthur’s eyes snap up to his and at Merlin’s grin he slowly lowers his sword. The other knights follow suit. Even without swords pointed at them the children don’t look reassured. Before the king can say anything Gwaine bursts out laughing.

“Yeah, you could say that.” He sheathes his sword and turns to Merlin. “Not killing those little brats _was_ rather hard.”

“Considering we managed to injure all of you I could say the same.”

Merlin isn’t the only one who gapes at one of the older boys. He can’t decide if he’s very brave or simply stupid to talk back at a knight. Maybe a bit of both.

Gwaine seems to think it’s the first because he starts laughing again. “I like you.” He says and takes a step forward to the boy – who holds his ground without flinching, Merlin is impressed.

“What’s your name?”

The boy glares and for a moment Merlin isn’t sure he will answer, then he straightens his shoulders and says, “Cei. And I’m not going to apologize; it was you who attacked us. It’s not our fault you’re incompetent and slow and got hurt.”

This time it’s Gwaine who bristles, before he could say anything else however Arthur stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“We are sorry we scared you. We thought there might be danger in this cave and overreacted. You defended yourself well. No one got seriously hurt, so no harm done.” The king says all of that with a smile and in a tone suited well for calming children; Merlin wonders where he might have picked it up.

Then Arthur’s eyes get hard and the smile vanishes. “However, there is still the threat of a dragon somewhere near here and bandits are likely lurking in the woods. Since you did manage to at least hold your own for a few moments you’re free to go wherever you want, if you think, however, you can keep quiet and follow my lead we will get you home safely.” His words leave all the children looking at him terrified and Merlin fights the exasperated sigh that wants to break free – and here he thought Arthur knew how to talk to someone that young.

“Alright, what the evil looking man wants to tell you is that we will take you home to your parents, but it would be easier if you could keep as quiet as possible on the way there. You think you can do that?”

Hesitant nods all around and Merlin gives them another reassuring smile.

“Good. Now I think we should get out of here, what do you think?”

More nodding and Merlin turns and leaves the cave, not bothering to wait for Arthur’s command.

 

When they step out the setting sun blinds all of them immediately. It will take them a long time to get back down but staying here is not an option since Merlin is the only one who knows Aithusa won’t be coming back anytime soon and he can’t tell anyone.

First things first though. Merlin examines every child cursory – no wounds, except for bumps where the swords hit and slightly dehydrated, nothing he can do about either. Then he turns to the knights.

“Is this really necessary?” Arthur hisses and tries to evade Merlin’s probing fingers. His head wound is still bleeding and he might have a concussion, both Merlin would like to treat before they start the long way down. There is just the problem of no time and Arthur being a thickheaded idiot.

“Just give me something I can press on the wound so it’ll stop bleeding.”

“Sire, if you have a concussion-“

“I’ll live. Wouldn’t be the first one and those children need to get home.” And then the king tears off his own sleeve and presses the cloth against his head.

“There, you happy? If the bleeding doesn’t stop, I’ll let you stitch me up once we’re back in the woods.”

Merlin wants to protest but stops himself and instead bandages Leon’s leg with the knight’s two sleeves while Gwaine treats himself by ripping off _his_ sleeve and pressing it to his jaw. Merlin sighs and silently apologizes to Camelot’s seamstresses.

The way back down is excruciating. Merlin is in the lead following his magic and carrying one of the smaller children on his back since the boy doesn’t have any shoes. Gwaine, Cei and another older boy carry three others with the same problem while the two smallest sit Percival’s broad shoulders. Arthur supports Leon even though Merlin can tell the king is almost falling over – definitely a concussion.

They only manage to get back to Elyan and Mordred before the world is plunged into darkness because Merlin starts using his magic more and more recklessly. He steadies their steps, clears the path of smaller stones they’d have tripped over and even enhances their ability to see in the twilight. He wouldn’t risk it but they’re all too busy watching their steps to notice anything.

Merlin feels Mordred’s questioning poke at his mind and almost stumbles in relief. Another two minutes later and both he and Elyan reach their group. Their faces are grim when they spot the king now more leaning on his knight than the other way around and without a word help both men.

The children are so exhausted they fall to the ground in a heap as soon as they reach the small clearing. Only Cei and two others stay awake to watch them with guarded expressions. Merlin tries not to think too much about why they act like that.

Mordred eases Arthur to the ground and fetches Merlin’s small pouch from his saddle.

_What happened? You look horrible._

_Nothing_. Merlin is sure Mordred hears the exasperated sigh that accompanies that one word.

_The children mistook them for bandits and since I was forced to stay outside I couldn’t help. Arthur is such an overprotective fool sometimes. And maybe I wanted to take a break, since I knew there were only harmless children inside – obviously I was wrong._

That gets a quiet snort out of Mordred. The young knight helps him to clean Arthur’s wound and then bandage it. To Merlin’s surprise the wound doesn’t need stitches after all.

Leon’s leg doesn’t either, which is more luck than anything else, considering he had to almost carry Arthur the last part of the way.

Once they’re finished Mordred helps Elyan to hand out soup to the few children still awake. They only start eating once they see the knights do just that. Merlin sighs and waits till they finished their soup to gently nudge them to sleep.

 

It takes them almost a week to get all the children back to their villages. Arthur’s concussion leaves him slightly irritable and dizzy for two day, Leon’s and Gwaine’s wounds hurt more than they want to admit and every time they decline a friendly invite from a thankful parent because they still have children to drop off at their homes the next night spent on hard forest floor seems all the more unbearably.  They’re all more than relieved once they turn their horses towards Ealdor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rather like Merli & Mordred dynamic, I think they ccould have been really good friends if not for the whole killing Arthur stuff.
> 
> Also, I just had to hit Arthur in the head, I'm sure he already missed it at this point ;)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	11. …and loosing.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it's better to not hold on too tightly

They make camp far enough from Ealdor to not smell the smoke or see the light of the fire. When Merlin wakes up he can’t tell how much time passed. He is disorientated and so weak he doesn’t even know how he manages to stay awake or why he woke up in the first place – at least until he realizes he can still sense his mother’s life force and it’s fading fast.

It takes him a moment to coordinate his limbs enough to even roll his head in her direction. The small movement is enough for the knight next to him to lean in closer to him. Merlin knows the man says something he just can’t find the strength to make sense of it, let alone answer him. His sole focus is to stay awake and to help his mother.

When a large shadow suddenly blocks his sight of her and large hands settle on his shoulders he makes a sound that’s more similar to a wounded animal than a human being.

“Easy there, you shouldn’t get up. You’re hurt.” The figure – Gwaine – says. This time his brain apparently decides it’s important for him to not only understand but also to try and answer the knight.

Doing so however sends a sharp pain from his lungs all the way up to his mouth. He chokes on the words and tears spring to his eyes. Gwaine still seems to understand at least some of what he wanted to say because his eyes go soft with sympathy as much as worry.

“Try to get some more sleep. I will wake you when there is any change.”

Merlin nods – and tries to get up again. If he could just reach her he could give her more of his magic and strength, maybe even repair her burnt lungs and broken ribs. He makes it up to his elbows before Gwaine pushes him back down again with a sigh and a soft shake of his head. Anger bubbles up through the pain and haziness; why won’t the knight understand?

“Merlin, mate, please, calm down. You’ll get hurt.” That’s a strange thing to say considering he only tried to get up. Of course, that’s the moment he curls his hands into Gwaine’s clothes to push the knight away. The pain is as bad as it was when he sustained the injuries. His hands feel burned _and_ skinned and he doesn’t have to be a physician’s apprentice to know that it will take a long time for them to heal enough to not hurt whenever they come in contact with anything other than air.

When he can see again it’s not only Gwaine but also Arthur hovering over him. The young king looks just as anxious and broken-hearted as his knight. Arthur’s hand hovers uncertain above his shoulder, wanting to comfort or at least keep him from further harm and yet not daring to touch him and cause more pain.

Merlin tries to get them to understand that he needs to get to his mother without using either his hands or his voice. Apparently he concentrates enough on it for it to turn into a mental cry for help because a moment later Mordred is next to Arthur, his eyes too old and knowing for his young face.

“Sire, maybe it would be best if we would help him. Maybe it’ll put him at ease; if he keeps trying to get up by himself he will tear his wounds open again.” His voice is quiet and he avoids looking at Merlin.

Arthur sighs and runs a hand through his hair before he nods and motions Gwaine to help him. Together they carry the young warlock the few feet to his mother and lay him down gently right next to her. Mordred folds two large Camelot red cloaks and they prop Merlin up against them, so he can look over his mother and touch her without putting a strain on anything.

The moment they’re sure he won’t fall over or hurt himself otherwise they step away to give them some privacy.

Hunith rests on another red cloak, her hands and feet bandaged carefully and a salve covering the burns on her face. When he reaches out to brush a lock of hair away from her forehead he notices that his hands are also wrapped in white.

He softly puts a hand on her chest, careful of his own injuries and starts to murmur a healing spell. He doesn’t care if Arthur or one of the knights notices anything or if they might wonder how his mother is still alive. All he cares about are his own weak magic and her fading light.

He doesn’t know how long it takes him to realize that he is not really healing anything. His magic is simply too weak right now to be of much use and he never was good at healing spells, was he?

With the realization comes crushing devastation and blinding anger. With a snarl he pushes his hand down harder, he can feel the wounds breaking open again and blood starts to soak through the bandage. He sends the last of his magic to her again, watching as it fuels the dying embers of her life force back to small flames. Dark spots dance before his eyes, bile rises in his throat, burning the raw skin and tears running down his cheeks. He knows it’s a reckless thing to do, knows it will probably kill him and doesn’t care at all. After a while he notices the frantic voices both outside as well as inside his head. The ones outside he disregards with a grimace, the one inside however is too persistent and simply too loud to be ignored.

_MERLIN, STOP! You have to stop, you’re killing yourself! STOP!_

He mentally swats at the voice and pushes harder. There is something warm dropping from his nose and ears, the pressure in his head so great it’s as if his brain wants to escape from it. And still he pushes. Hands try to separate him from his mother and he uses the hand not curled in her dress to slap them away.

_You have to stop! NOW!_

He doesn’t. It feels like he is slowly drowning, the voices around him becoming more distant.

_Merlin, please, stop it. Can’t you see you’re hurting her?_

And that’s probably the only thing that would get him to stop. When he forces his eyes to focus on her face and sees it scrunched up in pain he lets her go immediately. With a strangled cry he releases the iron grip he had on her and pulls his hand back as if stung. Her face seems to be the only thing he’s able to focus on. The pained expression disappears together with the unhealthy fire his magic fueled. He feels how it slowly dies down, returns to the glowing embers it was before he attempted to turn it to something … different, stronger, sickening. For a second the face of Lancelot replaces that of his mother, not the one he wore when he came back, but the one he showed Merlin in the last moment before he returned to the dead. He wore the same thankful and peaceful expression she is wearing now and Merlin knows with absolute certainty that the breath she takes next will be her last.

It takes the knights a moment to come to the same conclusion and when they do five pairs of eyes send him a stricken and apologetic look from deeply sorrowful and sad faces. Only Mordred averts his eyes to the ground but not before Merlin can see the relief. It’s probably that look that makes him realize what he’d almost done to his mother and for a moment he hates himself so, so much. And then reality hits him. He just lost his mother. He is an orphan now.

The sob that breaks free at that thought is loud in the silence of the clearing. He buries his face in her dress, right above the bloody handprint and cries not only for her but also for the father he wasn’t allowed to grieve for before.

 

He loses track of time again. When he becomes aware again the sun is high in the sky, her warm light so very different from that of a fire. He rides with Gwaine, probably because they don’t think he’d be able to stay on a horse by himself – they’re right. He feels empty, he can’t think and every time he tries to he sees his mother’s face and remembers the sick way her light had started to twist into something wrong. So he doesn’t. He simply lets the scenery pass him by, lets the soft murmur of voices hold the darkness at bay and Gwaine’s strong arms keeping him from falling of the horse.

After a while they stop, Merlin notices the darkness around them and knows it will be for the night. Gwaine helps him to get off the horse and to the most comfortable looking spot. The knight stays at his side while the others unload the horses. Gwaine doesn’t say anything, just sits next to him, his strong presence keeping him as steady as possible. Merlin notices how they don’t start a fire and is immensely grateful for it.

He drinks the water they give him, the cool liquid soothing the pain in his throat, the bread and cheese he ignores.

The knights keep up a steady stream of conversation about all and nothing, maybe for Merlin’s sake, maybe because they can’t stand the silence either. He falls asleep to it. His sleep is blessedly dreamless and in the morning he knows why. Mordred took Gwaine’s place at some time and has his eyes fixed on him; Merlin knows the young knight didn’t sleep for a minute for he kept the dreams away. Merlin can’t decide if he is grateful for the absence of nightmares or if he might have dreamed about something happy and should therefore be angry, so he is neither. He simply nods in acknowledgement and gets up. Doing so alerts the knights and before he can so much as take a step in the direction of the water skins hands have grasped him to keep him steady and Arthur tells him sternly to not move around or it might worsen his condition. He sits down again and takes off the bandage covering his left hand up to his elbow.

The hand looks horrible. The skin is an angry red; blisters both open and still closed reach up from his hands backside to his elbow. His hand’s inside is like an open wound, still bleeding and emitting ichor. Whoever took care of his wound cleaned of any and all splinters and dirt and used the salve Gaius from Merlin’s supplies to treat it. He doesn’t feel anything when he looks at it, no pain, no remorse, nothing. It could as well be the hand of a stranger; he treats it as such. He slowly gets up as to not alert the knights to what he is doing and walks to the horse that still carries his supplies. By some small miracle it’s just in front of him. Getting the salve and new bandages is more of a challenge, but he manages. He cleans the wounds again, reapplies the salve and puts the bandages back on. By the time he’s finished he is sweating and feels slightly nauseous so he doesn’t treat the other arm.

 

He keeps treating himself even after Arthur realized what he’s doing and threatened to keep Merlin’s supplies so his friend wouldn’t make his condition worse. It takes Leon reminding the king that Merlin is a physician’s apprentice and probably knows best how to treat his own wounds for his supplies to be returned to him. Merlin knows he should be angry at Arthur for underestimating him but he just can’t muster the strength or willpower for it so he just stays silent.

After two days he starts to whisper healing spells while he tends to his wounds. His magic is still weak and he always feels utterly drained afterwards but he doesn’t care. He can’t help but feel betrayed by it. He knows it is completely illogical and yet feels like he punishes it for letting his mother die.

By the time they reach Camelot he still rides with one of the knights. He doesn’t let himself wonder what the last horse carries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhm...sorry? I did tell you though that not all of them would survive my story. Hopefully you'll be able to forgive me :)
> 
> I don't know, when I'll be able to post the next chapter, but stay tuned for more, I'm not done yet ;)
> 
> Thanks for reading as always :)


	12. …and what you’d rather never found…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you like it so far :)

Merlin feels like he is too late.

They’re not even three hours from Ealdor when it starts. At first he dismisses it as longing to get home, then as his subconscious reminding him to return more often and then as looking forward to being home again, even if it’s just for a night.

When there is only half an hour all the color suddenly drains from Mordred’s face and the young knight fixes his eyes on the horizon, a soft gasp escaping him. As one they urge their horses to a faster pace. Merlin takes it as the bad sign it is and fears the worst.

It isn’t enough to prepare him for the sight of Ealdor burning brightly in the last light of the day.

Thick black smoke rises towards the blood red evening sky, blown apart by the harsh wind they’d escaped from in the forest. There is not one small hut left untouched from angry orange and yellow flames as they consume every last bit of the village. They can’t hear the screams and chaos thanks to the wind – it also keeps them from hearing the laughter and clinging of armor and swords from the maybe thirty bandits surrounding Ealdor on horses.

Then one of the houses collapses, the following burst of sparks twisting into the blackness of the smoke and highlighting it seems to break a spell.

With a sound somewhere between a choked off shout and a snarl Merlin pushes his horse forward. He doesn’t hear Gwaine and Arthur shouting his name and his magic prevents them from catching him before he is out of their reach. By the time he is halfway down the small hill they’ve emerged on, the bandits start to notice him. It might be because they’ve heard the galloping hooves or because the wind that suddenly turned and is now sending the flames to reach for their creators, making them shy away from the heat.

When they turn they all seem to lose all interest in staying and watching their gruesome work, instead they turn their horses and try to get away as fast as possible. A small part of Merlin wonders what they might see to warrant such a reaction; it’s the same part that notices the knights behind him, red light reflecting off their armor and drawn swords and thinks that _oh, that’s why_. The majority of his brain is busy shutting down, leaving only one thought _I have to save her!_

By the time he reaches the place formerly occupied by bandits his horse shudders underneath him, trying to get away from the heat and smoke being blown their way. He dismounts without thinking about it and runs straight for the flames. He gets about four steps far before he is stopped violently. There is a hand around his arm and in the second it takes him to not simply throw the person attached to said hand back he is hauled away from the deadly flames.

Merlin screams like someone just stabbed him and that’s enough for the grip to loosen slightly in surprise. Merlin takes the opportunity and throws himself back at the flames.

Without his magic he’d probably light up like a torch; as it is they simply part for him, looking for more appealing fodder for their never ending hunger. He doesn’t care if they close behind him again or if the knights follow him, all he sees is his mother’s strangely sad face during their last moments together, her last words ringing in his ears over and over again.

The house when he reaches it is completely encompassed in fire. He staggers to a halt in front of it tries to reach for the flames, to extinguish them or at least form them into a path for him to take – that’s when he suddenly _feels_ his mother, right at the center of his burning childhood home.

He doesn’t even know how he is suddenly inside, the world tilting at strange angles for a moment.

“Mother?” His magically enhanced voice carries easily over the roaring of the flames and creaking of the wood around him.

“Mother, where are you?” The far wall gives in to the flames and falls inward, throwing burning timber at his feet and it’s only his magic keeping the roof from collapsing and burying him.

He starts to feel the strain on his magic – between keeping the air around him breathable, the flames from burning him and stabilizing the house its draining fast.

He calls for his mother again, stumbling across the floor towards the presence he still senses. When he trips and instinctively tries to catch himself against the wall as he did his entire life the pain that explodes in his left hand is excruciating, blinding him and sending him to his knees with a strangled cry. He cradles his hand close and tries not to think about the damage, he has more important things to worry about – like finding his mother in this blazing hell.

When he does there isn’t enough air on the whole planet to fill his lungs. It’s like a punch to his stomach to see her lying on the floor surrounded by flames. A heavy beam pins her down, the flames licking on its ends. It’s a miracle she hasn’t been consumed by them yet – he doesn’t wonder if it might have been a cruel one.

“Mother!” He screams and lands heavily on his knees next to her. He carelessly lifts the beam from her body, its charred wood tearing the skin on his hand badly and breaking off deep within. He doesn’t even notice the pain.

“Mother, please, _please,_ wake up!” _Please don’t let me be too late!_

She doesn’t respond and there are flames too close to her and Merlin’s brain apparently is in some kind of stupor because instead of using his magic he pats at them with his hands. At least the resulting agonizing pain is enough to finally get his brain back into working order and the flames die down immediately. With another burst of gold in his eyes she is encompassed in the same bubble of clean air he is. He lifts her up in his arms and takes a staggering step towards the hole the collapsing wall has left. Flames lick at her legs and with a growl he renders her entire person untouchable to them.

He takes the main road out of Ealdor, hoping the wide road will make it harder for the flames to reach him in its midst. He makes it halfway to the end of it before the endless well that is his magic feels like it will run dry any second. The smoke now bites in both his eyes and lungs and the heat of the flames try to scorch the skin on his unprotected face. He uses the last drops of it to keep his mother from breathing in the smoke; there is nothing he can do about the heat anymore.

He doesn’t know how he makes it. By the time he does he is coughing continuously and the tears running down his face feel like they evaporate on his cheeks. Still he doesn’t drop his mother and he doesn’t fall down – not until he knows he walked far enough away from the hell his childhood home has turned into. Then his legs give out underneath him and all illusions of strength leave him. At least his arms remain strong enough to slowly lower his mother to the ground.

For a moment he just sits there and tries to breath. At the first real breath he manages he leans forward and starts to frankly look for any wounds on his mother.

There isn’t really anything he can do about smoke inhalation, but burns and broken bones he can treat. As he carefully starts to undress her, his vision swims in and out of focus, his burnt hands shaking so badly he can’t open the deft knots of the rope holding her dress together, leaving it soaked with his blood.

He is so focused on his task he doesn’t notice the two knights next to him until his hand is gently pushed away. There are hands on his shoulders, both steadying him and nudging him away from her.

The two shapes say something and start pulling him to his feet and he can’t –!

“No, NO, I have to help her! Let me GO!” He’s not sure they can understand him, he can’t even be sure he said those words at all, the blood too loud in his ears and his throat too raw.

Somehow he manages to shake off the hands and falls down again. He takes her face into his hands and _pushes_.

He doesn’t even say words, just wills her to take his magic, to use it to repair the damage done to her – and damn right he can see the damage now. There are burns on both her arms and feet. Her left arm is broken as well as some of her ribs on her left side where the beam pinned her down. He also suddenly realizes he can sense her life force. It’s like a light that he somehow knows should be glowing brightly, only now it feels more like a dying candle. His magic works like tinder for it. But his magic is almost all gone by now and when the last drops of it leave his body his world is plunged into darkness.

 

Gwaine catches his friend when he finally collapses and eases him down to the ground. Merlin’s hands are covered in his own blood, dark splinters stick out of the insides and his left one is badly burnt, his breathing is fast and shallow and his pulse even more so. When he looks up in Arthur’s face he sees the same careful relief, panic and sad resignation. Hunith will not survive the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I admit I like to torment Merlin a little too much^^
> 
> I promise there will be happier times for him soon, though not in the next chapter.
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading :)


	13. ... and losing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next one :)  
> I seriously thought i'd already posted this hence it being late as usual :/  
> But as a special treat I'll post two chapters now :)  
> Have fun!

They make camp far enough from Ealdor to not smell the smoke or see the light of the fire. When Merlin wakes up he can’t tell how much time passed. He is disorientated and so weak he doesn’t even know how he manages to stay awake or why he woke up in the first place – at least until he realizes he can still sense his mother’s life force and it’s fading fast.

It takes him a moment to coordinate his limbs enough to even roll his head in her direction. The small movement is enough for the knight next to him to lean in closer to him. Merlin knows the man says something he just can’t find the strength to make sense of it, let alone answer him. His sole focus is to stay awake and to help his mother.

When a large shadow suddenly blocks his sight of her and large hands settle on his shoulders he makes a sound that’s more similar to a wounded animal than a human being.

“Easy there, you shouldn’t get up. You’re hurt.” The figure – Gwaine – says. This time his brain apparently decides it’s important for him to not only understand but also to try and answer the knight.

Doing so however sends a sharp pain from his lungs all the way up to his mouth. He chokes on the words and tears spring to his eyes. Gwaine still seems to understand at least some of what he wanted to say because his eyes go soft with sympathy as much as worry.

“Try to get some more sleep. I will wake you when there is any change.”

Merlin nods – and tries to get up again. If he could just reach her he could give her more of his magic and strength, maybe even repair her burnt lungs and broken ribs. He makes it up to his elbows before Gwaine pushes him back down again with a sigh and a soft shake of his head. Anger bubbles up through the pain and haziness; why won’t the knight understand?

“Merlin, mate, please, calm down. You’ll get hurt.” That’s a strange thing to say considering he only tried to get up. Of course, that’s the moment he curls his hands into Gwaine’s clothes to push the knight away. The pain is as bad as it was when he sustained the injuries. His hands feel burned _and_ skinned and he doesn’t have to be a physician’s apprentice to know that it will take a long time for them to heal enough to not hurt whenever they come in contact with anything other than air.

When he can see again it’s not only Gwaine but also Arthur hovering over him. The young king looks just as anxious and broken-hearted as his knight. Arthur’s hand hovers uncertain above his shoulder, wanting to comfort or at least keep him from further harm and yet not daring to touch him and cause more pain.

Merlin tries to get them to understand that he needs to get to his mother without using either his hands or his voice. Apparently he concentrates enough on it for it to turn into a mental cry for help because a moment later Mordred is next to Arthur, his eyes too old and knowing for his young face.

“Sire, maybe it would be best if we would help him. Maybe it’ll put him at ease; if he keeps trying to get up by himself he will tear his wounds open again.” His voice is quiet and he avoids looking at Merlin.

Arthur sighs and runs a hand through his hair before he nods and motions Gwaine to help him. Together they carry the young warlock the few feet to his mother and lay him down gently right next to her. Mordred folds two large Camelot red cloaks and they prop Merlin up against them, so he can look over his mother and touch her without putting a strain on anything.

The moment they’re sure he won’t fall over or hurt himself otherwise they step away to give them some privacy.

Hunith rests on another red cloak, her hands and feet bandaged carefully and a salve covering the burns on her face. When he reaches out to brush a lock of hair away from her forehead he notices that his hands are also wrapped in white.

He softly puts a hand on her chest, careful of his own injuries and starts to murmur a healing spell. He doesn’t care if Arthur or one of the knights notices anything or if they might wonder how his mother is still alive. All he cares about are his own weak magic and her fading light.

He doesn’t know how long it takes him to realize that he is not really healing anything. His magic is simply too weak right now to be of much use and he never was good at healing spells, was he?

With the realization comes crushing devastation and blinding anger. With a snarl he pushes his hand down harder, he can feel the wounds breaking open again and blood starts to soak through the bandage. He sends the last of his magic to her again, watching as it fuels the dying embers of her life force back to small flames. Dark spots dance before his eyes, bile rises in his throat, burning the raw skin and tears running down his cheeks. He knows it’s a reckless thing to do, knows it will probably kill him and doesn’t care at all. After a while he notices the frantic voices both outside as well as inside his head. The ones outside he disregards with a grimace, the one inside however is too persistent and simply too loud to be ignored.

_MERLIN, STOP! You have to stop, you’re killing yourself! STOP!_

He mentally swats at the voice and pushes harder. There is something warm dropping from his nose and ears, the pressure in his head so great it’s as if his brain wants to escape from it. And still he pushes. Hands try to separate him from his mother and he uses the hand not curled in her dress to slap them away.

_You have to stop! NOW!_

He doesn’t. It feels like he is slowly drowning, the voices around him becoming more distant.

_Merlin, please, stop it. Can’t you see you’re hurting her?_

And that’s probably the only thing that would get him to stop. When he forces his eyes to focus on her face and sees it scrunched up in pain he lets her go immediately. With a strangled cry he releases the iron grip he had on her and pulls his hand back as if stung. Her face seems to be the only thing he’s able to focus on. The pained expression disappears together with the unhealthy fire his magic fueled. He feels how it slowly dies down, returns to the glowing embers it was before he attempted to turn it to something … different, stronger, sickening. For a second the face of Lancelot replaces that of his mother, not the one he wore when he came back, but the one he showed Merlin in the last moment before he returned to the dead. He wore the same thankful and peaceful expression she is wearing now and Merlin knows with absolute certainty that the breath she takes next will be her last.

It takes the knights a moment to come to the same conclusion and when they do five pairs of eyes send him a stricken and apologetic look from deeply sorrowful and sad faces. Only Mordred averts his eyes to the ground but not before Merlin can see the relief. It’s probably that look that makes him realize what he’d almost done to his mother and for a moment he hates himself so, so much. And then reality hits him. He just lost his mother. He is an orphan now.

The sob that breaks free at that thought is loud in the silence of the clearing. He buries his face in her dress, right above the bloody handprint and cries not only for her but also for the father he wasn’t allowed to grieve for before.

 

He loses track of time again. When he becomes aware again the sun is high in the sky, her warm light so very different from that of a fire. He rides with Gwaine, probably because they don’t think he’d be able to stay on a horse by himself – they’re right. He feels empty, he can’t think and every time he tries to he sees his mother’s face and remembers the sick way her light had started to twist into something wrong. So he doesn’t. He simply lets the scenery pass him by, lets the soft murmur of voices hold the darkness at bay and Gwaine’s strong arms keeping him from falling of the horse.

After a while they stop, Merlin notices the darkness around them and knows it will be for the night. Gwaine helps him to get off the horse and to the most comfortable looking spot. The knight stays at his side while the others unload the horses. Gwaine doesn’t say anything, just sits next to him, his strong presence keeping him as steady as possible. Merlin notices how they don’t start a fire and is immensely grateful for it.

He drinks the water they give him, the cool liquid soothing the pain in his throat, the bread and cheese he ignores.

The knights keep up a steady stream of conversation about all and nothing, maybe for Merlin’s sake, maybe because they can’t stand the silence either. He falls asleep to it. His sleep is blessedly dreamless and in the morning he knows why. Mordred took Gwaine’s place at some time and has his eyes fixed on him; Merlin knows the young knight didn’t sleep for a minute for he kept the dreams away. Merlin can’t decide if he is grateful for the absence of nightmares or if he might have dreamed about something happy and should therefore be angry, so he is neither. He simply nods in acknowledgement and gets up. Doing so alerts the knights and before he can so much as take a step in the direction of the water skins hands have grasped him to keep him steady and Arthur tells him sternly to not move around or it might worsen his condition. He sits down again and takes off the bandage covering his left hand up to his elbow.

The hand looks horrible. The skin is an angry red; blisters both open and still closed reach up from his hands backside to his elbow. His hand’s inside is like an open wound, still bleeding and emitting ichor. Whoever took care of his wound cleaned it of any and all splinters and dirt and used the salve Gaius gave Merlin for wounds like these. He doesn’t feel anything when he looks at it, no pain, no remorse, nothing. It could as well be the hand of a stranger; he treats it as such. He slowly gets up as to not alert the knights to what he is doing and walks to the horse that still carries his supplies. By some small miracle it’s just in front of him. Getting the salve and new bandages is more of a challenge, but he manages. He cleans the wounds again, reapplies the salve and puts the bandages back on. By the time he’s finished he is sweating and feels slightly nauseous so he doesn’t treat the other arm.

 

He keeps treating himself even after Arthur realized what he’s doing and threatened to keep Merlin’s supplies so his friend wouldn’t make his condition worse. It takes Leon reminding the king that Merlin is a physician’s apprentice and probably knows best how to treat his own wounds for his supplies to be returned to him. Merlin knows he should be angry at Arthur for underestimating him but he just can’t muster the strength or willpower for it so he just stays silent.

After two days he starts to whisper healing spells while he tends to his wounds. His magic is still weak and he always feels utterly drained afterwards but he doesn’t care. He can’t help but feel betrayed by it. He knows it is completely illogical and yet feels like he punishes it for letting his mother die.

By the time they reach Camelot he still rides with one of the knights. He doesn’t let himself wonder what the last horse carries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for still reading this :)
> 
> I always wondered what Merlin could do if he'd set his mind to it and having him -almost- do something like that does seems plausible. I will keep making him more powerful than he was in the series because he is supposed to be the most powerful warlock ever to walk the earth and we never really got to see the full extent of his magic. And I really wanted to see that^^


	14. Coping - more or less

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised the second chapter for today :)
> 
> Have fun!

“What happened?” Gaius asks, his voice low and his grip soft. The knights shift uncomfortably and none looks like he wants to answer. Gaius guides Merlin to his examination table where he immediately starts to unwrap the bandages. The skin underneath looks horrible and so much better than it did when Merlin first took them off. His healing spells must have worked after all. The sight is still bad enough for the old physician to turn around sharply and order the knights which have followed Merlin down to the physician’s chambers to get him fresh water, prepare a tee out of the leaves hanging from the ceiling, fetch him fresh bandages and help him to get the young warlock to his own room because he needs to lie down _now_!

Merlin doesn’t protest when Gwaine helps him up the stairs to his room, mindful to not let his exposed skin come into contact with anything.

He also swallows obediently all the medication Gaius tells him to and doesn’t flinch while his arms are professionally taken care of. The pain he feels while Gaius works is distant, almost as if it’s not happening to him at all but to someone else.

He knows his lack of reaction worries Gaius and the knights more than anything else. They eye him warily, as if expecting him to break any second. He doesn’t. He simply follows Gaius orders to lie down and get some rest. They only leave him alone when they’re sure he fell asleep. As soon as the door closes behind them he opens his eyes again. It’s probably morbid curiosity that makes him strain to hear what they’ll tell Gaius.

“Will he be alright?” It sounds like Gwaine wanted to ask that question since coming down to Gaius’ chambers.

“Physically? Yes. There is no sign of infection and he’s healing remarkably well.” Gaius sighs deeply and there is the sound of him sitting down in his favorite chair at the fire.

“As for his mental state however, I do not know. He’s a strong boy and normally I wouldn’t be concerned, but this unresponsiveness worries me.” At his words the knights seem to sit down as well, uncomfortable silence filling the room. They’d all noticed how quiet and withdrawn their friend had become. They’d hoped the physician who’d been more like a father to Merlin would be able to get some kind of response from the young man, hearing him expressing his concern alarms them even more.

“But Gaius, this is Merlin we’re talking about. I’m sure he will bounce right back. He always does.” The light tone of Elyan’s words falls flat in the end.

“Yeah, but up until now he never had to bounce back from something like _this_.” Gwaine says quietly.

“No, he didn’t.” Gaius agrees with a solemn voice. Merlin winces at their hopeless tone. It’s not like he’s dead, he simply doesn’t want to move or talk, which he thinks is a rather subdued reaction considering the last time someone he’d loved had died in his arms. After all, leaving them all behind and going into hiding for several hundred years is a much crasser reaction than not talking for a few days.

The careful wish to reassure them that blooms in his heart is not enough to make him move though.

There is a knock and a moment later the king’s worn out voice asks: “How is he?”

Merlin remembers Arthur went to the throne room with Leon and Mordred to talk to Gwen and to… do something else? The memory is starting to slip away again and Merlin lets it.

 “We will see.” There is the sound of rustling fabric, probably Gaius adjusting his robes. And then he asks a question Merlin really doesn’t want to hear the answer to and yet is unable not to listen to. “Can you tell me what happened?”

The question is asked so quietly Merlin is barely able to hear it.

Arthur sighs and drops down into another chair by the sound of. Merlin can hear Gwaine muttering something he doesn’t understand and Elyan’s soft reply he doesn’t either.

“He went in and got her out?” Merlin can hear The Eyebrow rising.

“Yeah. By the time we found him he was… he, uhm, I guess he tried to look for injuries and wanted to treat them? Obviously not caring about his bleeding hands or the fact that he’d inhaled enough smoke to kill an ox. We don’t know how he was still conscious, Gaius. Or how he is not – How he recovered so quickly.” The word _dead_ hangs heavy in the air and Gwaine has to take a deep breath before he can continue.

“He woke up again only minutes before Hunith passed away. He tried to help her somehow and it seemed to exert him. He – Gaius, he –“ Here Gwaine breaks off with a ragged breath. The wish to somehow reassure his friend that he was _fine_ gets stronger, yet Merlin stays still.

“It was close. Really close. We thought that he might not make it through the night, but he did. He was better by late midday the next day. The day after that he started to treat his wounds, drink and eat normally.” Elyan’s voice is a little shaky when he picks up where his friend was unable to say more.

“We hoped he might recover more before we reached Camelot so we might have a proper burial soon.” Sounds of agreement follow that last statement. Merlin tries to keep up with the conversation through the fog that suddenly clouds his mind and tries to shield him from whatever will follow those words.

To his relieve and slight astonishment no one has anything to add and they all fall silent long enough for Merlin to wonder if he’d fallen asleep after all.

And then: “You still didn’t tell me _why_ all of that happened.”

The knights sigh as one and this time it’s Arthur who answers. His voice is quiet, but clear and there is something in it Merlin can’t really identify and it gets stronger the longer he talks.

“The village was attacked by bandits. We managed to extract some information from one of them. Apparently they were part of a larger group hunting for new recruits. They had some bad luck because of a dragon stealing the children from the villages they wanted to raid so they decided to split up. On that day they were supposed to meet up with the rest of their group only to find the camp burned to the ground. There were no survivors. But one of the men scratched _sorcerer_ and _Ealdor_ into the ground before he went up in flames. Some of them were part of the group that attacked Ealdor all these years back and knew the village was protected by a powerful sorcerer. They thought he took revenge on them for raiding the other villages and decided to take revenge themselves. If it wouldn’t have been for that stupid kid back then…” By now Merlin can tell exactly what colors his king’s words: Its contempt, anger and a broken resignation that speaks from too much pain caused by magic. He would be saddened by it if he were still able to feel any more than utter self-hatred and furious despair.

But it only lasts for a moment before it is both swallowed up by emptiness. He lies on his bed and hears the others discussing what happened. Maybe Gaius telling Arthur that it wasn’t Will’s fault, maybe Gwaine telling his king it couldn’t have been the sorcerer from last time because he died, maybe someone telling the young royal that it certainly wasn’t the magic’s fault…. Merlin doesn’t hear them anymore, neither does he care.

He is to blame for the loss of all those lives

It is his fault alone that his mother is dead.

That she died in a fire meant for him.

Her blood stains his hands and his alone.

Merlin thinks he might drown in the emptiness.

 

He doesn’t sleep much in the nights that follow. He also doesn’t eat or drink more than the bare minimum or even react to anyone. He stays in his room starring at the wall above his bed and relives the last day he had with his mother only to torment himself with her last living moments and what he almost did and what he most definitely did.

The small part of his brain that is not occupied with memories is telling him that he is in shock and that if he looks at the events a little more rationally he will see it wasn’t his fault because he couldn’t have known. He ignores those thoughts and remembers his mother’s face the moment he almost destroyed her soul and almost throws up the little food he ate.

 

On the second day they all come down to talk to him.

It starts with Leon and Percival sitting with him while he eats a piece of bread that is his breakfast. They tell him something Merlin forgets as soon as he hears it. They leave looking crestfallen and for a moment that small traitorous wish to reassure them returns. It disappears fast enough for Merlin to pretend he never felt it at all.

It makes itself known again with Gwaine’s infectious laughter and story about a barmaid, her husband and a necklace. It gets stronger when Elyan joins in to add his viewpoint to their patrol gone awry. As soon as they leave it dwindles again.

Only to resurface at Gwen’s gentle hands and words that never seem pitiful or overly compassionate. He remembers then that she knows how it is to lose a parent to a brutal death and what not to say in such a situation and that she just knows him. And yet she doesn’t know anything because it’s not sadness stealing his words and smiles. That thought squashes the wish and Merlin doesn’t even notice Gwen leaving.

When the moon illuminates his room he wonders why neither Mordred nor Arthur came to see him.

 

On the third day he hears someone talking again.

“What do you mean you can’t get in? I didn’t even know Merlin’s room had a lock!”

“It doesn’t. He doesn’t want me inside so I am unable to enter.”

“…What?”

“I haven’t been able to get in since yesterday. I think it was too much and he literally locked all of us out. Or maybe he just doesn’t want anymore company, I don’t know.”

“So, what do we do now?”

“I don’t want to pressure him. He might just vanish or do something really drastic.”

“You don’t think he would…”

“At this point? I have no idea.”

“Gaius, what is wrong with him? It’s not like him to – to just _shut off_ like that!”

“If only I’d know.”

Merlin turns his back to the door and his magic blocks the light streaming in through the window.

 

He only continues using the spell on his hands and to treat them every day because he knows one day he’ll have to use them to protect Arthur. By now they’re almost completely healed up. He will have scars covering his arms for the rest of his life and thinks it’s not enough.

 

He dreams. He’s floating. It’s utterly peaceful and Merlin lets himself drift around. Not thinking about what he lost or why he lost it. Moments like this always end with emptiness swallowing everything. That’s why he doesn’t even try to get away from the dark shape making its way towards him. He absently thinks the shape looks rather like a person this time, dark hair and dress floating around a white form. With its approach his surroundings seem to solidify until he sits at a familiar beach, stars stretching above him and a soft warm wind blowing his hair back.

He knows who will sit next to him when he turns his head.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” There is no accusation or anger in his voice; it’s as hollow as he feels.

“Because I didn’t know.” The words are softly spoken. She doesn’t apologize; it wasn’t her fault and while he knows that the anger explodes viscously in him and he snaps around to face her when he snarls: “But you did know I’d fail miserably in protecting Arthur?! I guess it’s good to know you always only cared about my destiny! You’re just like the others! I hate you! I HATE you so, so much! You’re not like the others, you’re _worse_!”

By the end he’s shouting and somehow he’s looming over her – he has no recollection of getting up.

Freya meets his gaze steadily and lets his words wash over her. At her quite calm his temper fades and he feels ashamed at his outburst. He has to avert his eyes when he sits down again.

She waits until his breathing returns to normal and the tears that threatened to fall recede again. Then she sighs and takes his hand in hers while her other cradles his face and ever so carefully lifts it up until he has to look her in the eyes again.

“Merlin, what happened wasn’t your fault.” At his grimace she shushes him and places her thumb over his lips. “My turn to talk.” This time he can hear a small smile.

“It might be true these men attacked your village out of revenge and it’s possible they wouldn’t have done so if you wouldn’t have used magic all those years ago to protect your hometown. It also was perhaps a little foolish to not have the knights attack the camp and instead do it in a way which screamed sorcerer.”

Her grip tightens on both his hand and face and pulls his attention back to her where it had started to wander dark roads again at her words.

“That doesn’t change a few facts though. Firstly: If you hadn’t used magic back then your village would have been destroyed and all of you killed or captured. You might know a more elegant way to get rid of a few bandits _now_ , back then you acted to the best of your abilities so you’re not to blame for your past mistakes.”

He wants to protest again but her thumb seals his lips shut.

“Secondly: You couldn’t have possibly known one of the men scratched these words into the dust or that there were more men than in the camp. And it most certainly was impossible for you to predict they’d retaliate in such a way.”

“And thirdly: You did what you could to safe her. Both when conjuring up a whirlwind and when getting her out of that fire and trying to heal her. You acted completely recklessly and with utter disregard to your own safety or health and with only the wellbeing of others in mind. That’s why I fell in love with you and why I still believe you will be able to turn fate in your favor.”

Her face softens and her thumb starts to slowly stroke across his lips. “You’re the strongest man I know and I just know that you’ll be able to see it too once you finish with this self-pity nonsense. Especially since it’s completely unfounded and besides, that frown looks ridiculous on you.” The smile is back, this time not only in her voice but also stretching across her full lips. He returns it hesitantly causing hers to become even wider.

“See, better.” She’s grinning now, her thumb still resting against his lips. He nods and sighs deeply when she withdraws her hand.

“How are you so, I don’t know, wise? You always seem to know what to say.”

“Well, I _am_ a woman. We are rather good at that.” Laughter glints in her eyes and she sends him a playful wink.

A memory of his mother flashes before his eyes. A memory of an evening spent by a dying fire and telling her about a new found fiercely loyal friend. The thought of Gwaine causes guilt to spread through him once more and he grimaces.

Freya’s good mood evaporates and displeasure colors her lovely face.

“Merlin…” She warns.

“What? Oh, sorry, no, it’s just, I just thought about my friends and how, well, they seem to think I might do something stupid. I didn’t really convince them otherwise.” He frowns and thinks of Gaius and how the old man couldn’t even get into his room; he must be worried sick.

“Oh, then it’s okay if you feel guilty. In fact, you _should_ feel guilty. You really were an ass, making them worry about you and locking them out like that.” Her tone is only half mocking and she’s getting to her feet pulling him up with her before his newfound guilt can immobilize him or worse plunge him back into the dark emptiness he still fells lurking at the edges of his thoughts.

“You should definitely go home now, we can talk another time. Come see me when you can.” And with a last encouraging and slightly wicked smile she shoves him back and with a gasp he opens his eyes to his room, feeling like he just landed rather heavily on his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :)
> 
> A lot of hurt and some much needed comfort. Did I mention that I really like Freya? Because I do. A lot. I will try to include her as much as possible into my story. Maybe we'll see her again soon since Merlin will need to thank her for getting him out of his funk once he realizes how hard it was on his friends to see him like this.
> 
> Anyways, next chapter will take some more time since I seem to be stuck at this one point and I can't get it to work :/  
> But I will and then I will post the next one :)
> 
> Until then, have a nice summer :)


	15. Seeking Forgivness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to post another chapter ages ago, but this one did not want to cooperate at all...  
> I had to rewrite almost every scene and then it just got longer and longer and kind of out of hand and well, now it's almost 5400 words but I don't really want to split it and think you can handle a longer chapter just fine ;)  
> So here you go, have fun and hopefully you like it :)

He doesn’t know how late it is, only that it’s absolutely dark in his room. A look out of his window shows him not only Camelot by night but also during a heavy rain. As it is it’s impossible to tell the time, it could be midnight or almost morning. He’s careful to not make any noise when he lights the candle next to his bed and gets up. There is a bowl with stale water in one corner; a quick spell replaces it with fresh one from the well. He takes off the bandages from his arms and finds his hands and arms healed almost completely, the new skin rosy and sensitive. He can see the fresh scars, but instead of the former despair he felt at their sight he now smiles tightly at them. He is not yet sure how to feel about them or the whole ordeal that led to him acquiring them, it will take more than a night with a friend and encouraging words to dispel the self-loathing and anger at himself but for now he at least feels _something_ else, even though he’s not sure what it is.

The healing spell he knows by heart after using it so many times. He also applies Gaius’ salve he finds on his nightstand as well as new bandages. Then he uses his magic to keep them dry while he commands the water to wash him as good as possible before dressing in clean clothes he picks off of the floor.

He’s in the middle of tying his shoelaces using magic when he hears a bang against the door followed by a soft curse. He stiffens immediately, his laces falling to the ground. But he needn’t have worried.

A quiet chuckle and an even quieter sigh drift through his still closed door followed by words, so soft he has to strain to hear them over his pounding heart.

“Hey, Merlin. Sorry I’m late. Lot is an idiot and formulating letters to him is more like walking across a field peppered with traps. I could really use your help with those but I guess politics are rather boring so I completely understand if that’s not enough reason for you to come back.”

A weary sigh. The words are spoken without any hint of reproach and only that keeps Merlin from opening the door immediately. That, and a curiosity where this might go.

“Anyways, Gwen told me you’re still not letting Gaius in your room and are not eating. I have to admit, I have half a mind to order the knights to find a way to climb in through your window to check if you’re even thinner than normal, not that I thought that’s possible.” He doesn’t say _to check if you’re still alive_ and somehow Merlin can’t find those words hiding in Arthur’s almost playful ones.

“Gwaine went to the tavern with Elyan and Percival _and_ Leon. If you don’t snap out of it soon Gaius’ll run out of hangover remedies.” Arthur chuckles again. The king’s voice never turns accusatory; the smile seems to stay as well as the warmth. Merlin feels tears prickling at his eyes and forces them down; he fears he might miss Arthur’s words if he starts crying.

“Mordred is still rather withdrawn. I tried to get him to come see you again today but he keeps insisting that he doesn’t think he would be welcome and that he’d know if it were otherwise. It must be because of his magic. After all, druids always seem to know the feelings of others pretty well. I guess it’d be rather helpful to have someone like him present at difficult negotiations and sentencings. The problem’s jus’ that every time I think about that I remember all the times someone with magic betrayed me in some way or other.”

He sighs again and this time it sounds more tired than anything else. “I know not all magic users are evil. It’s just not easy to remember when your friend suffers because of it, because of something that happened years ago. Good lords, I could really need your help with this whole mess. I know, I know, you’re not ready yet an’ believe me, I know tha’ feelin’.  Also know, you’ll come back, always do, always.”

Arthur’s words become more and more slurred and Merlin doesn’t even have to see the king’s face to know that his eyes drifted close already.

As careful as he can he gets up – and almost falls over his shoelaces. He curses silently and ties them before getting up again. When he reaches the door he hesitates. He knows from the sounds that Arthur is most likely leaning against his door, fast asleep by now and according to his words it’s late and Merlin is pretty sure the king talked as quietly as he did to not wake Gaius. He feels another surge of guilt at the very likely prospect of the king coming down during every night since their return to talk to a closed door, hoping Merlin might hear him and decides to open his door again, falling asleep instead leaning against a closed one.

Another wave hits him at the thought of his friends drowning their worries in alcohol; he’d really have to talk to Gwaine about that, it wasn’t healthy. He chuckles breathlessly at the hypocorism and uses his magic to find Arthur’s still form on the other side of his door and to stabilize it enough for him to slip through unnoticed. When he sees the king he frowns. Dark shadows under his eyes and an unhealthy color to his cheeks make Arthur look sick or at least wrung out and ready to keel over. That’s the second time he found his friend looking more than exhausted next to his sickbed in a span of weeks and he swears then and there that it will not happen again in the foreseeable future.

He calls on his magic again, feeling it dancing under his skin and wonders if Freya’s words weren’t the only things she gave him on his way tonight.

When Arthur is safely in Merlin’s bed, covered with a clean blanket the young warlock closes his door again.

Gaius is sleeping on his own cot. Deep lines of worry creasing his brow even in sleep and Merlin crumbles some herbs in his hands and sends a cloud of calming scent and magic toward his mentor.

On his way to the knights’ chambers he stops by the kitchen to get some bread, cheese, sausages and mugs filled with water.

He visits Gwaine first because he doesn’t know how long his newfound strength will last and knowing the knight his hangover will be by far the worst. Gwaine looks about the same as Arthur did, plus the unhealthy complexion of a person drinking too much in too short a time. He swallows the guilt that wells up at the sight and gingerly places a bandaged hand on his friend’s forehead. The healing spell he whispers is another piece of knowledge he should not yet have and especially designed to heal a hangover. When he’s finished Gwaine mumbles something and rolls his head in his direction. Merlin holds his breath, waiting for his friend to wake up but Gwaine doesn’t stop snoring. He leaves food and water on the small table on his way out.

He gives the other knights the same treatment. All of them look like they didn’t sleep too well the last couple of nights and spent too much time worrying. He intends to change that.

He pauses at Mordred’s door and then thinks _what the hell_ and knocks softly. At the same time he tears down the mental wall he unconsciously built. The surge of relief he feels from Mordred the moment the young man opens the door and realizes who it is standing at his door in the middle of the night is overwhelming. The smile that breaks free at Mordred astonishment and bewilderment at Merlin caring enough to stop by the moment he feels capable to – because of course Mordred must see how Merlin is still shaken up badly, must _feel_ it – feels real.

_Thank you._

Merlin doesn’t even know for what he is thankful – for keeping away the nightmares, for stopping him from turning his mother into a wraith, for respecting Merlin’s need for privacy and not intruding on his mind when he clearly wasn’t ready for it. For all of those things and so much more, like giving Arthur another reason to reconsider magic.

Mordred seems to understand because he nods and returns his smile and then Merlin reels from the surge of fatigue Mordred can’t quiet keep to himself and he notices that Camelot’s young knight looks exactly like everyone else and tells him in his most Gaius’ tone to go to bed and get a good night’s sleep. Mordred actually chuckles before closing the door.

 

Merlin doesn’t feel tired at all, his magic singing in his veins and so he makes his way up to the royal chambers. He is mindful of Gwen’s habit of light sleep whenever someone she cares about is not well when opening the door. Sure enough, Gwen’s sleep is restless and he uses the same technique as he did on Gaius to send her into a deep reviving sleep. He also spells her to not hear any of the noises he’s about to make. Then he soundproofs the doors and gets to work.

When he made his way up to these rooms he’d assumed they’d be in disarray due to him being unable to perform his usual duties, Gwen too worried to clean up and Arthur having no time to get a new servant. With George on a family related vacation the king had no one he’d trust enough to fill Merlin’s spot without further training.

What he found when opening the doors is not disarray, it is utter chaos.

Dirty and clean clothes are strewn over every piece of furniture and on the floor. The area around the heavy desk is covered with crumbled paper, spilled ink dripping down on the floor. Multiple books lay open on the desk, a couple of chairs someone pulled next to it and the windowsill behind it. A pile of broken feathers and ripped apart paper occupies the place beneath the windowsill. The bathing utensils look like someone threw them around on purpose, the cabinet’s doors ajar. Arthur’s armor looks like he used it for a rainy and muddy training session and then dropped the pieces wherever he managed to take them off.

Only the huge table meant for private meals between the king and queen is free of garments, armor or paper. He expected to find food in varying degrees of decay but someone – Gwen most likely – had it cleared away.

All in all it could be worse. It still takes him the reminder of the night to clean the room, even though he uses magic for more or less everything. He is even more rubbish at cleaning spells than he is at healing ones.

 

He barely makes it back to Gaius’ chambers before Arthur wakes up. When the king realizes where he is and who isn’t where he’s supposed to be he lets out half a terrified scream, half a shout for his guards and Gaius before he notices the source of his distress sitting in the next room, calmly watching him.

The scream makes Merlin pull a face and causes Gaius to wake up. The old man is no less surprised to find Merlin out of bed than the king and for a moment no one says anything, they simply stare at Merlin like he might disappear any moment. Before either of them manages to formulate more than a questioning “Merlin…?” the door bursts open and Gwaine, Elyan, Percival and Leon stumble in, Mordred in their wake looking distinctly amused at the whole situation.

_Good morning._

_Good morning to you as well Emrys._

Mordred gives him a small smile and leans against the wall next to the door.

“You! YOU!” Gwaine splutters and points an accusatory finger at Merlin who raises an eyebrow and simply waits. A moment later Gwaine hugs him, mindful of his injuries and as hard as he dares. He releases him only to grip him by his shoulders and tell him: “You are, are…” The knight shakes his head at Merlin’s questioning and slightly amused look and hugs him again. “It’s good to have you back.” He murmurs in the crook of Merlin’s neck. Merlin nods silently and Gwaine takes a steadying breath and lets go of him so he can cross his arms and say with a mock glare: “Don’t do that again. You will give me grey hair before my time.”

“You sure it isn’t too late for that.” Merlin answers after swallowing down the first thing that popped into his head – namely a very sarcastic comment about him not having any parents left that could die in his arms. No, this is better. It makes Gwaine look at him horrified and the others chuckle – except Gaius and Arthur who still stare at him wide eyed. The lightness of the moment lasts until Gwaine gives a weary sigh and drops his hands back on Merlin’s shoulders.

“I mean it though. If you ever feel like it all gets too much and you need some time off just tell me. Or one of the others. I can’t promise it’ll make it better, but it’ll make it easier. For you and for us.” And then the knight rakes a hand over his suddenly haggard face and slumps in a chair. Worry mixes with fresh guilt when he sees the same expressions of wary hope, stress and tired concern on all their faces.

“Mate, do you have any idea how _worried_ we were?” Gwaine asks with a sigh.

Guilt definitely wins and he has to fight to meet all their eyes when he says: “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. I just needed some time to sort a few things out and I didn’t notice how much it pained all of you to… to be locked out.” He swallows past the lump in his throat. “I am sorry.”

For a moment there is absolute silence and then Gwaine starts to laugh. “Seriously, mate, you’re the only person I know who’d _apologize_ after freaking out because his mother just died in his arms.”

As a collective the room seems to hold its breath until Merlin grins and shakes his head.

“Yeah, I really am not like everyone else, aren’t I?” The joke’s not lost on Gwaine who rolls his eyes and embraces Merlin again, much more gingerly than the first time.

“Are you alright?” The question is asked low enough for Merlin to pretend the others didn’t hear, allowing him to answer to just Gwaine, but that wouldn’t be fair, wouldn’t it? They all worried about him and so Merlin gently lets go of him and leans against the wall at his back.

“No, I’m not.” He says and worry flashes anew in their eyes, so he holds up a hand to silence them. “I don’t think I will be for some time. It will be difficult for me, more so when I have to tiptoe around you and feel you tiptoeing around _me_.” He takes a deep breath and continues with the words as he prepared them in the hours spent cleaning Arthur’s room.

“What happened happened. There is no changing that and I know that. Or at least I’m working on it. It was horrific and the wounds will take time to heal. It will be a lot easier if you would just… be normal I guess.” He shrugs and smiles a little because without Freya it’d take him a lot longer than it did to realize that – a couple of hundreds of years to be exact.

Gwaine shakes his head while Arthur says with a strange tone: “You know, sometimes I really do wonder where you get all these wise _things_ you keep sprouting.”

Merlin chuckles self-consciously, very aware of the gazes still locked on him and feels a blush creeping up.

“How else am I supposed to make your speeches sound good?” His tone is light, his face carefully neutral and for a moment Merlin knows Arthur remembers last night and the king blushes. Merlin breaks into a full grin and the remaining tension evaporates in hugs and well-meaning pats on his back from the other knights and a raised eyebrow from Mordred. Gaius stands very still. The old man eyes seem to bore into him when he looks in his direction and with a last reassuring smile he lets the knights wander out of the small room. Arthur is the last one to leave, without any hugging or shoulder patting and with an expression the young warlock can’t decipher.

When the door closes behind the king Merlin is already embracing the old physician. They simply hold each other, each encompassed in their own and yet so similar grief.

“Gaius, I’m so, so sorry.” Merlin swallows and for once doesn’t hold back the tears falling from his eyes and dampening Gaius’ robes. “I didn’t mean to worry you. It was just… I couldn’t… I heard you and Gwaine and I really wanted… I… Gods, Gaius, I am sorry.”

“Shhh my boy. It’s alright. You are not to blame. After what you went through everyone would have needed some time to find his way back. And you did. I am so proud of you.”

The last words make a new wave of tears roll down his cheeks. Gaius doesn’t seem to mind at all, simply holds him tighter and rubs his back in small circles.

 

Merlin tells Gaius how he talked to Aithusa and how they rescued the children. For a moment he hesitates to tell him about the rest but then he locks the tears, despair and everything else he still feels away and tells him nevertheless because Gaius deserves to know. Merlin wasn’t the only one to lose a family member.

He gets to the part where he almost turned his mother into a wraith and his throat locks up with guilt and shame and for a moment he can’t say another word. Then he swallows, looks at his knees and simply says: “I know the others already told you the rest, so there.”

He knows Gaius can tell he isn’t completely honest or at least that he’s not telling him something but lets it slide for once. Instead he sighs deeply and grasps Merlin’s hands in his. The old physician doesn’t say anything for a long time. The silence around them is comfortable. There is nothing Gaius could say to cheer Merlin up or to dispel his guilt and he knows it. Only time will be able to do that and Merlin is grateful for the quiet moment and silent support. When his stomach gives a rather loud growl to remind him his last real meal had been days ago Gaius raises his eyebrow at him and gets up to prepare a stew for him – without any comment on his recent isolation or how he should know better than  to let himself starve. Merlin thinks he’s never more appreciated having Gaius as his mentor and friend.

 

The way up to the royal chambers Merlin could find in his sleep. Now, as he walks up the long winding staircase he concentrates on every step to keep his thoughts from wandering. And yet he can’t help but wonder why Arthur while coming to sit behind a closed door night after night to make sure Merlin wasn’t alone couldn’t even give him a friendly clap on the shoulder. Not that he’d wanted something like that, it was just… somehow not what he’d expected.

Sighing he knocks on the great oak door once before entering. It had taken some time but ever since Arthur’s marriage to Gwen he’d learnt to announce himself before opening the doors to the royal chambers lest he might see something he’d really rather not.

Gwen sits in a comfortable chair reading. As soon as she sees him she drops the book and runs into his arms. She buries her face in his shoulder. “Gods, Merlin, I am so sorry for your loss.”

She lets go of him and instead takes his hands in hers and gives him a little sad smile when she says: “She really was a wonderful and extraordinary woman. I never could thank her enough for helping me. If you ever need anything, I’ll always be there for you.”

Then she hugs him again and gives him a kiss on the cheek.

“Also, you’re an idiot.” Merlin thinks he never went from being deeply touched to – he doesn’t even know what to feel at her words. But she smiles and gives his hands a little squeeze before spinning in a circle indicating the whole room.

“I nearly had a heart attack when I woke up and found this place cleaned up. Luckily I saw my slippers by the fire to warm them up. Only you do that, you know?” She gives him another smile he returns gratefully.

“I didn’t mean to startle you. I simply thought since I neglected my duties for days I should at least try to make it up.” His tone is forcefully light. The next sentence however is not. “Gwen, I’m sorry for what I put you and the others through. I didn’t –“ That’s as far as he gets before Gwen claps a hand over his mouth and looks at him much the same way Freya did; with fond exasperation and mild annoyance.

“Don’t you dare apologizing for being a little out of it after what happened to you. Merlin, it was a completely normal reaction. And by cleaning up the horrible mess these chambers were in you made more than up for it.” She lowers her hand. “Merlin, really, it’s fine. No harm done. Now, if you ever lock yourself in a room again, I will climb in through the window and get you out myself!” She finishes with a mock glare and Merlin huffs out a laugh and embraces her once more.

“All good?” She asks when he lets her go and he gives a shaky nod.

“Good, then you can go and find Arthur. I think the two of you should have a little talk.”

 

It’s still raining heavily, turning the light in the hallway to a greyish twilight that manages to dull even the brilliant Camelot red of the king’s jacket.

Arthur stands at the tall windows overlooking the courtyard. Merlin can’t see his expression but his shoulders are rigid. Merlin swallows and steps next to his king.

“Sire, I-“ He stops and clears his throat. “Sire, it was never my intention to worry you and I apologize.” He thinks he already did that, but something is wrong and maybe an apology will help. Or not, considering Arthur turns to face him with his expression like thunder.

Merlin swallows and fights the instinct to take a step back. Instead he waits for Arthur to say something. When he doesn’t Merlin opens his mouth to repeat his words of regret and gets as far as that before Arthur’s expression crumbles and he heaves a sigh.

“Don’t, please don’t apologize again. Stop, just … stop. For once you reacted like a normal human being and all you do afterwards is apologizing for it.” Arthur rakes a hand through his hair and gives him a strange look.

Merlin thinks he’d always reacted rather like a human being but that doesn’t seem up for discussion so he lets it drop. Instead he tries to figure out why Arthur would be this upset by a – for his standards apparently – normal reaction.

Before he can voice a question on the matter Arthur gives him a hug. It’s a quick and really rather awkward one, but who is he to complain?

Afterwards Arthur looks about as uncomfortable as Merlin would have guessed, but the king is not done yet and by the set of his jaw he’d like to get this whole thing over with without Merlin opening his mouth. So he keeps it shut – and not because he’s busy replaying their entire acquaintance to figure out if the king had initiated a hug before and comes up blank.

“Merlin, it is me who should apologize. As a king I failed to prevent an attack on a village under my protection and as – as your friend I failed in not being there for you when you needed me. During our travel back I was so consumed by anger and grief over what had happened and frankly by the impact that whole disaster might have on the peace treaty with Essetir. But all of that should not have made me ignorant to your desperation and needs, especially after our return to the castle and I – apologize.” The king ends lamely, not sure of what to make of Merlin’s absolutely frozen expression. It’s better he’s too stunned by Arthur’s words since he’s pretty sure if he’d allow any emotion to show on his face it would be one of amusement and that would be more than inappropriate. But he simply can’t help it because he’s sure Arthur rehearsed the whole speech since leaving Gaius’ chambers and that makes it utterly adorable and yep, now he’s grinning, judging by the rapid change to concerned-for-mental-health on Arthur’s face.

“You rehearsed that, didn’t you?” And now Arthur looks absolutely mortified. The laugh that bubbles up at that feels strange and wrong but also like the best thing ever. He only allows a snicker to break free however, because he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to stop if he started for real.

Arthur is still looking like he would prefer the ground to swallow him whole so he composes himself again to say: “Thank you Arthur. But there is nothing you should feel guilty about. It was a hard blow for all of us.” He remembers Gwen’s tears and Gaius’ crestfallen expression and the knights’ looks of sadness – he wasn’t the only one to lose someone dear.

The next sentence makes bile rise in his throat but he swallows it down again and pushes the guilt away – later, he promises the dark place in his heart.

“The attack wasn’t your fault. You did what you could by catching those bastards and taking care of me to the best of your abilities.” His eyes sparkle when he adds: “Maybe you should sleep in your own bed tonight though. My door sure isn’t as comfortable and I might fall over you when I open it tomorrow morning.” Arthur’s face turns an interesting shade of red Merlin can see even in the dim light of the corridor. Merlin would take pity on him if he wouldn’t be busy suppressing the laughter that still doesn’t want to go.

“It’s not my fault you locked the damn door. It’s not as if I wouldn’t have been comfortable on your chair too. I mean, not that I’d planned on sleeping there, I mean, I simply wanted to make sure you’d be able to return to your duty soon. Not- not that I didn’t understand your- What I wanted to say was, that I completely understand if you-“

Merlin can’t help it anymore, he starts to laugh. And it’s not a very quiet laugh. For a moment Arthur looks horrified about stumbling over his words like that before a hesitant smile pulls the corners of his lips up.

It takes Merlin some time to quiet down again. When he does he tells his king with laughter in his voice and a grin stretching over his face: “Thanks, I really needed that. You know, maybe it’s really everyone’s interest if I’m the one writing your speeches, considering your overflowing talent with composing even the simplest sentences.”

Arthur rolls his eyes at him. “Well, I do have other things on my mind, I can’t be expected to excel at everything. Besides, you like writing them, it’s the perfect excuse for you to avoid work.”

“Sure, I do. It’s not like I’m drowning in work after I’m finished with one.” But there is no heat in his words, because unbeknownst to Arthur Merlin is perfectly capable of getting all the extra workload done – having magic is of course more than helpful on these days. Thinking of, he is suddenly all too aware that the steady thrum of it running through his veins since this morning is suspiciously absent. And now that he’s noticed that small fact he notices how his hands have started to hurt again, as has his head. He is also tired. _Very_ tired.

He feels more than sees Arthur moving towards him, a look of concern on his face and hands outstretched as if he’s afraid of Merlin falling down any second – Merlin isn’t sure he won’t.

“Merlin, are you alright? Merlin!” The last word is a shout, soon followed by one for his guards when Merlin _does_ collapse.

“Merlin? Merlin come on, stay with me. It’s okay, I’ve got you. Gaius’ll be here in a moment.” Arthur’s voice is one of utter distress and that’s weird because, surely, his king can see that he’s merely tired. When Merlin opens his eyes and sees that Arthur also looks about ready to carry him to the physician himself he frowns.

“Arthur, calm down. ‘m just tired. Long day.” He tells him with once more closed eyes and what he hopes is a smile and pats Arthur’s arm clumsily where it keeps him from face planting onto the hard floor. It’s apparently not as reassuring as he’d hoped because as soon as Gaius rounds the corner Arthur is rapidly filling the physician in on what happened and then asks in a voice like a small child if maybe Merlin had overextended himself and made his condition worse. At Arthur’s lost tone Merlin finds the strength to open his eyes again and glare at the king – and Gaius, Gwaine, Gwen and Elyan surrounding them.

“I am _fine_. I am tired and it was a long day. I am not going into shock. I am _not_ having a nervous breakdown and I am going to be just peachy tomorrow morning.” He stops for a moment and considers the way these few words have lapped away his last energy and concedes with a sigh. “Alright, maybe not in the morning, but midday?” When they still look at him with concern he frowns again and impatiently waves his hand in Gaius’ approximate direction.

“Gaius, tell them I’m fine.” The old physician merely raises his eyebrow at him and Merlin gives up. “Fine, whatever, I’m too tired for this. Good night.” And he burrows his face in Arthur’s chest and immediately falls asleep.

 

He is so not surprised to find _her_ laughing at the shore.

He sends her a glare and drops down next to her.

“You couldn’t have let me get back to Gaius’ chambers before taking your magic away again?”

“No, definitely not.” She is still giggling. “Besides, you should be thanking me.”

“Whatever for?”

“If he’d given you a proper hug, I might not have done it. I’d really hoped that for once he’d act like your friend. Instead he hid behind his regal persona again. I wasn’t satisfied with that. And you weren’t either.” She adds and starts to laugh again at his perplexed and slightly alarmed face.

“You are a devil, you know that?” He is too stunned to react to anything she’d just said in any other way. Also he is not really upset at what happened. There were enough knights to carry him down to his chambers and she is right, Arthur had not acted as his friend – not solely. But to give the man such a fright. Merlin shakes his head, a smile spreading across his face.

“Still, a little warning next time?”

“And where would be the fun in that?”

Merlin glares at her again, which only serves to make her laugh harder. He drifts away from the shore to the sound of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :)


	16. Finding out the truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo again, long time no see :(  
> But to my defence, these chapters were really stuborn ones and i had too many days of not being able to write anything satisfying...  
> Anyways, here there are the first couple of them, since I'm still not happy with the rest.  
> Enjoy :)

His mother’s burial is set to be in three days. Merlin stays in bed for two. It’s as long as Arthur ordered him to and is incidentally also the amount of time it takes him not to faint whenever he has to do more strenuous things than walking a few steps. He suspects Gaius to drug his meals. The old man spends enough time in his room to easily do so; Merlin lets him.

Once he gets over the fact that Arthur overcompensated for his shortcomings during their journey back by giving him one of Camelot’s finest rooms he enjoys staying in it. He knows it won’t last and he’s never slept that good so he makes the most of it. Gaius doesn’t even seem to leave the room during the day, always there to force more medicine and food into Merlin. Gwaine and Arthur seem to take shifts in staying by his bedside; Merlin tells them it’s not necessary – they disagree.

If it’s not them it’s Gwen or one of the knights. They bring him up to date on town gossip, the latest winner of their training duels and even the current political situation with King Lot. Merlin is more than surprised about the last one, especially since it’s Arthur who tells him about it only to actually ask for his advice. Merlin doesn’t have any for once, he simply can’t think about the destruction of his hometown with the needed distance to even form a founded and neutral thought, let alone give the kind of counsel he knows his king needs from him. So he tells Gwen to talk to him because he is very well aware of her political intuition and her foresight in these matters. Besides, he can’t always tell Arthur what to do.

By late afternoon of the second day he is bored out of his mind. It’s a welcome distraction when Mordred stops by and tells him about the events of the last days the others were not privy to. How the blacksmith’s son saved his father from a fiery death simply telling the fire to _stay away_ and how Mordred had made sure the family did not freak out and gave them the directions to the nearest druid camp. He tells Merlin about the twins in the lower town that practice flying by jumping off of high trees and actually manage to stay airborne long enough to ensure a safe landing. He gave them the same directions. The story about the three orphans selling old bread after refreshing it ends similarly.

All that Merlin sees in his head; it is both good practice for his mental conversation skills as well as absolutely necessary.

And it also tells him more about Mordred than the young man might have wanted. Mordred is proud he managed to save them from execution and he feels sadness at the need to lie to Arthur about their disappearance. He also knows it’s the only way to ensure the young king’s conscience won’t be laden with guilt as was his father’s.

Merlin can’t help but wonder _again_ how a man like Mordred could ever betray someone he cares for and is as loyal to as he is to Arthur. It just seems so utterly inconceivable when he listens to Mordred’s mind laced with loyalty and friendship. The real feat is to not let the young man hear any of his inner turmoil while they’re sharing not words but thoughts and Merlin is insanely relieved when he seems to succeed at it.

By the time Mordred leaves again he’s utterly exhausted with keeping his mind more or less separated into two parts for the last hour he falls asleep before the door closes behind the knight.

 

He wakes early the next day. For once he’s completely alone and takes the liberty to let his magic do all the work. It erases every trace of him ever staying in the room faster than any of Camelot’s servants, even George.

He changes his bandages again, simply to cover up the fact that the only traces left from the gruesome wounds are fine white scars and rosy new skin. He has to admit to overdoing it maybe a little bit since it’ll be much harder to keep up the appearance of an injured man when his hands are at most a little sensitive while it should be painful to simply wear his bandages. He is confident he’ll manage though, and if he someone does catch him doing something he shouldn’t be able to do yet he’ll just have to lie. The one thing he knows he’s even better at than working magic.

No one comes to escort him to Gaius’ chambers or to give him any orders from the king, not even Gwaine stops by to chat and eat his food again. He’s slightly disappointed – not worried though, mostly because he refuses to be.

By the time he reaches Gaius’ chambers and finds neither the physician nor anyone else anywhere between the royal chambers and the physician’s he does get a little bit worried.

He tentatively reaches out to Mordred and finds an impenetrable wall where usually an open door waits for him. He squashes the worry by telling it to _shut the hell up,_ and heads towards the throne room because whatever bad thing happens it usually either starts or ends there.

When he’s two flights of stairs away he barely manages to suppress a groan and a hearty curse about Camelot and its inability to stay out of trouble for more than a day.

The scene he finds upon entering the room through a side door is exactly how he imagined it. A diplomat – from Lot’s kingdom, judging by the crest on his cloak and the uniform of the men surrounding him – is standing in front of the throne, face red and gesturing widely.

One of the men accompanying him wears a cloak instead of a uniform and radiates power like ice does cold but he doesn’t seem to be inclined to use it in any harmful way right now so Merlin ignores him. Instead he focuses on Arthur and Gwen who sit ramrod straight with expressions completely devoid of emotions. Merlin actually swallows once he sees them; he knows they only look as regal as they do now when either protocol demands it or it’s their last option before tearing the person opposite them to shreds. He doubts the diplomat is aware it’s the latter.

“– audacious coming from the man who led the attack on our troops –“

“So you admit they acted under your King’s orders?”

Arthur’s voice is cold like a frozen lake and about as calm; a stark contrast to the diplomat shouting enraged and walking up and down before the royal couple.

“They were recruiting men into the ranks of our army; of course they acted under his orders.” The diplomat hissed and Merlin felt hot rage filling his stomach.

“In that case, maybe you should inform King Lot that his men acted not only outside – and against – the knight’s code but have also dishonored a standing agreement we had concerning a village close to Camelot’s border.”

“What are you implying?” Now that the man caught up to the fact that he impressed no one by shouting his tone too dropped a few degrees.

“Well, they took young boys from their homes and raided the villages in the process. If they were my men I’d hang them for either offence.” Arthur’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “But their most grievous mistake was to attack an unarmed and innocent village and burn it to the ground. I will not continue an alliance with a King inclined to overlook or even support these kinds of – _incidents_.”

The words hang in the air for a long moment. The diplomat choses a reply that changes the mood in the room from neutral verging on antipathy to openly hostile – he laughs.

It’s a mocking laugh and Merlin grinds his teeth in an effort to keep his magic from setting the idiot aflame right in front of the whole room.

“You can’t be serious? You are the one profiting from this petty alliance; King Lot doesn’t need you. He simply humors you. Don’t go threatening someone who could squash your insignificant and weak little kingdom with the wave of a hand. For now I will let your comment slide, since I doubt you already have the political foresight and diplomatic skills required to see your errors, considering you’re barely old enough to need someone to hold your hand while you’re sitting on this throne.”

Merlin can hear the rustling of heavy cloaks all around the room – the knights shifting their weight and stance in preparation for a fight.

Arthur merely raises an eyebrow and staples his fingers in front of him.

“And I will let your nonprofessional take on these peace negotiations slide because I highly doubt your words represent your king’s.” The look he sends the diplomat could freeze lava. “However, since you so colorfully expressed your feelings towards me and Camelot, maybe it’d be best if we’d postpone this meeting for now. Tell your king I still hold him and the treaty in high regard. If he feels the same, I will welcome one of his most professional and unbiased men once more.”

Merlin can hear the breath the diplomat sucks in at that even from across the room. Arthur just not only insulted him by more or less praising him – he also made it impossible for the man to retaliate without seeming even more like the nonprofessional idiot he is.

 “I have also sent a letter to him stating the same early yesterday morning with one of my most trusted knights after assuring him his family is well cared for at the palace whatever might happen to him.” Arthur continues. “The man carrying the letter is under orders to protect it with his life and to not let anyone but King Lot see its contents.”

Both sentences mean that the knight is not only long out of reach but also highly loyal and will see the letter is either delivered or destroyed. Merlin can’t help but feel a bit proud at Arthur’s foresight.

Arthur stands up and Gwen follows to present an ever united front.

“If that is all, you are free to leave Camelot at any time you like. Please accept the provisions and horses we prepared for your journey back. If you need anything else let us know.”

With that the man was dismissed in a not only polite way but also completely humiliated. Merlin can’t help the snicker that bubbles up at the man’s outraged face. Camelot’s guards ignore him, their eyes still trained on the group of men in front of their king – one of Lot’s men however does turn at the sound. It’s the one with the powerful magic; of course it is.

The man’s eyes are a pale grey and completely devoid of any feeling. When they meet his, he immediately knows why Mordred had his shields up like that – and probably around the king as well. It feels like a train hits him, the foreign magic pushes against his own, tries to read his thoughts, worms his way inside his heart and freezes it, digs up all the dark thoughts and feelings he’s shoved away in the last weeks. He stumbles back a few steps; a chocked off sound escaping him before his magic reacts to the intrusion and strikes back.

Merlin knows he’s stronger than the other and he can tell that the man realizes his mistake about the same moment that Merlin bundles up these dark things lurking in the corners of his head and heart and hurls them at him. It’s not an elegant or even thought about attack, but it sure is efficient.

The man flinches violently and tries to raise his own shields in time to avoid the full brunt of Merlin’s attack – he only succeeds because Merlin can hardly turn the man into a quivering mess and not be found out.

So he reels his magic back in and only sends a tendril of power towards the man.

_I will let you leave so you may tell everyone that wants to listen, that King Arthur is under my protection. If I ever see you here again, I will not hold back._

He sees understanding dawning on the man’s face and a name taking shape in his thoughts.

Merlin grins at him and sends _Yes_ before he breaks the contact and the man has the good sense to actually not try anything before they all leave the great hall in a manner as dignified as possible – which really isn’t all that dignified at all.

As they do Merlin catches Mordred’s eyes and gives him a wink. Mordred is actually white in the face and the hesitant touch of his magic against Merlin’s is laden with shock, worry and a strange sense of wonder.

Merlin smiles at the knight and answers.

_It’s fine, he just surprised me._

_That’s not really what I meant._ Mordred says lamely. _I had trouble keeping him out and I knew what he is capable of. You didn’t and you… well, I don’t think I ever realized you were so much more powerful than the rest of us._

Merlin gives the mental equivalent of a sad smile. _You’re the second person to tell me that lately. It’s not as if I know these things seem impossible to everyone else – I don’t even realize I do them. Using magic is just something that I do mostly without conscious thought._

Mordred looks at him with something akin to stunned awe and Merlin winces – he really needs to read up what’s considered a great feat in magic so he can avoid doing it in front of anyone.

Wait a second, _How did you know what he could do?_

For a moment Mordred face closes off. _I recognized his cloak from when I met his kind a few years back._

The way he says it makes it clear it isn’t been something Mordred remembers fondly. Merlin doesn’t ask any more questions.

“Merlin, what are you doing here? I thought I told you to stay in your chambers until someone came to help you back to your own.” It isn’t a question and by the sound of it, Arthur also doesn’t think he should even be out of bed.

Merlin winces, partly because Arthur just startled him out of his silent conversation and also because he actually feels guilty – who would have thought. Gwaine, Leon and Percival are just behind Arthur but don’t say anything, Gwaine even avoids his eyes.

“Sorry, it’s just that I did wait and when no one came I decided to make sure everything was alright – seems like I got here in time for the showdown.”

He knows he is still too pale, both from the mental attack and what he witnessed before. It might not have taken any effort to block the attack and retaliate, however he still is not up to his usual strength and the man _was_ strong. He hides his hands behind his back when he realizes they’re shaking.

 “Of course you did.” Arthur huffs and rolls his eyes but Merlin doesn’t miss the assessing look or the worry that flashes in the king’s eyes at what he finds.

Merlin expects Arthur to call for Gaius or to simply order Merlin to return to his chambers and wait there for the physician. Arthur does neither. He simply orders his men to make sure the diplomat leaves Camelot in peace and then leads Merlin out of the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did you like Arthur all regal and giving that idiot the dressing down he deserved? ;)  
> Thanks for reading :)


	17. Saying Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, this chapter and the next one were one, but then it got way too long and i decided to split it up.

They’re half way to Gaius’ chambers before Arthur asks what’s probably been burning on his tongue since he saw Merlin in the throne room.

“How much did you hear?” His voice is soft and even though he still walks besides Merlin he doesn’t look at him, giving the warlock time to hide whatever he might not want to show his king. Like the expression of pure hatred and anguish that Merlin knows crosses over his face.

He has to clear his throat before he can give an answer.

“I know they were Lot’s men.” He is surprised how calm and collected he sounds.

Arthur winces and heaves a sigh. “I am sorry you had to hear that.” Which is only half true – Arthur is sorry he _knows_. And he’s probably worried what Merlin might do next.

Merlin shrugs. “Don’t worry about it. If I’d have stayed in bed I’d have died of boredom, this way I got to see you ripping that asshole a new one.” He smiles and nudges Arthur slightly in the shoulder. “You know, that really was something. I didn’t know you had that in you.”

“Oh yeah? Didn’t think I could hold my own against a measly diplomat?” Arthur raises his eyebrows at him and Merlin snorts.

“Considering how you’re incapable of writing your own speeches and frequently trip over your words in more serious conversations?” He is smirking now and Arthur is turning red again – the king does that a lot lately.

“Not at all.” He finishes when he can see Arthur getting uncomfortable. And then he laughs at Arthur’s skeptical look.

“Still, I’m surprised you didn’t try to kill the man where he stood or demand we ride out to attack King Lot or something, considering what happened to –” Merlin thinks it’s rather comical the way Arthur snaps his mouth shut and looks like a deer caught in headlights. Someday he might learn when to say what but that day is clearly not today.

His good mood evaporated by the king’s words he drops his shoulders. “That wouldn’t help anything, would it? It won’t bring her back and the peace with Essetir is important. Peaceful _times_ are important. And to bring war to Camelot because of what a – a few men did, it’s not worth it.” His voice is somber and his vision is swimming in tears again. He doesn’t let them fall though because no matter how much Arthur tries to project an aura of calm and comfort Merlin knows he would brush Merlin’s tears off or ignore them or get uncomfortable enough to leave him in the middle of the corridor.

Arthur nods beside him. “Why am I not surprised you’d say something like that, all honorable and wise.” He says wryly. Merlin gives him a lopsided grin.

“Because you finally caught up with how I write your speeches and are going to do them yourself?”

That gets him a snort and an eye roll just as they reach Gaius’ chambers.

When they step inside Gaius is sitting at the small table waiting for them together with Geoffrey of Monmouth. Merlin stops dead in his tracks when he sees them. Why would the old man be here, with Gaius, clearly waiting for them?

And then it hits him. After finally being able to get up and move around on his own and the commotion in the throne room the main reason for why he was allowed out of bed was efficiently shoved aside.

If not for Arthur closing and bolting the door behind them and then shoving him to the table he’d turn around and flee the room. It must show on his face because Arthur suddenly looks horribly uncomfortable while Geoffrey sends him an apologetic look. Gaius pats his hand and gives him an encouraging smile.

Merlin feels like throwing up and running away and maybe setting the room on fire all at once but he takes a calming breath and lets them talk.

 

It takes them about an hour before everything is cleared up – who will talk when, who will carry the body, that there won’t be a feast because that’s not how it was done at Ealdor and as much as Arthur wants to give Hunith a funeral befit for a queen he respects Merlin’s wishes, however quietly they may be uttered. Merlin doesn’t say much the entire time, lets the others talk and the reality of what was happening wash over him. He only insists on holding the funeral at a small lake, with a horse only a short while from Camelot, not caring how it might look to everyone that he wants to lay his mother to rest at the exact same place he’d been attacked only weeks ago.

Since they’ll all need to get to the lake they decide to hold the funeral at sundown until then Merlin does his best to appear normal. He brushes off Gaius’ questions and inquiries so masterfully he actually manages to fool the man for once. He wonders from where he takes the energy for it.

When the time for their departure nears they head to the courtyard. Not only Arthur, Gwen and Geoffrey are waiting for them but also Gwaine, Leon, Percival and Mordred.

He pushes the tears down ruthlessly and doesn’t really know how to react to them, thankfully that seems to be exactly what everyone is expecting.

Arthur has a horse prepared for him and Merlin mounts and gives him a grateful nod.

When they ride out Merlin is at the front flanked by Arthur and Gaius. Merlin doesn’t let himself wonder about the significance of that gesture – no matter the occasion, the king normally takes the lead, that Arthur lets him ride in front of him so clearly… He, again, has no idea how to react to that so he focuses on the road ahead.

Its waters are a soft blue today, clear and calm, the small waves hitting the shore more of a greeting than a warning.

Gathered at the shore is a small crowd. The cook who remembers Hunith from her many visits to Camelot before she met a certain dragon lord; one of the seamstresses who Hunith introduced to some new and more resistant stitches for her linen, a skill learned out of need in the harsh environment of Ealdor; most of the servants he works with on a daily basis, a few of the guards he meets whenever he does visit the tavern with Gwaine, the famer’s family he helped deliver a calf last spring, the merchant who’s pup he’d saved from a vicious bunch of unruly children last year – all of them and many more who might not have known his mother but want to lend him their support nonetheless.

When he sees all these people his throat closes up again – he didn’t know Arthur told all these people about the funeral but he can’t really say he’s surprised either.

Trying to avoid looking at all these men and women his eyes wander to the small boat waiting for his mother’s still form, laden with colorful flowers, ribbons and leaves.

Merlin’s breath catches in his throat and he wonders how many times he’ll have to come here to bury someone he loves.

He dismounts carefully and takes a step towards the lake. He feels Freya’s presence like a touch on his skin and a mental link deep in his soul. It calms him and when the others form a loose half circle around him, Arthur and Gaius he has an iron grip on all the dark thoughts just waiting for him to let his guard down. He will not break down here, not now and not with so many strangers and friends watching. There will be time for that later, when he’s alone and doesn’t have to hold in the magic grieving within and all around him.

Geoffrey steps up next to the boat and at his command the knights positioned behind Merlin move as one, carrying a wooden stretcher between them and on it the covered form of his mother. Gaius made sure to embalm her using not only oil but also magic to keep her body from decomposing. Merlin knows that because he asked Gaius about it and Gaius gave him an honest answer, probably to reassure Merlin they had time and to keep him in bed for as long as he deemed necessary.

The knights move as one, their steps measured and steady. Geoffrey keeps on talking while they pass him and carefully lower the stretcher into the boat. Once they’re done they step away again and from then onwards Merlin’s eyes are glued to his mother’s still form.

Merlin doesn’t hear a word of what Geoffrey says.

He doesn’t see anything besides the small boat and the even smaller figure on it.

Gaius takes a shaking breath next to him he shifts his weight so their shoulders brush for a moment. That is the only time he moves.

Once Geoffrey finishes his speech he steps away from the boat and walks slowly to where Merlin and the others stand. He says something to Merlin and he knows what he’s supposed to answer, he only hopes the right words tumble from his mouth.

And then it is his turn to step forward. The short distance to the boat seems much longer than it really is but he forces his feet to carry him to his mother’s last resting place.

When he stands in front of the boat one sole tear escapes him and turned away from curious eyes he turns it into a miniature ice sculpture of a dragon that he carefully places on the boat before he turns around.

He locks his eyes on a point somewhere above Arthur’s head and recites the old words for a save journey to the afterworld and the eternal peace that awaits the deceased there. Getting through the words is not hard, turning around again to say his personal goodbyes is.

He doesn’t stay in front of the boat for long, not wanting to risk the tears breaking free or anyone hearing what he whispers since it is not for anyone but his mother.

Freya waits until he’s back next to Arthur before she commands the water to rise up and take the boat with it. Merlin is surprised when Arthur stops his knights from interfering.

As soon as it reaches the middle of the lake it stills completely. Merlin knows what he’s supposed to do now and takes another very shaky breath before raising a hand. Behind him he hears the unmistakable sound of arrows being ignited. When he drops his hand again the knights let them fly.

They hit the boat at the same moment, the dry wood doused with oil catching fire immediately.

It doesn’t take long for the flames to consume it completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :)


	18. Underestimating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the last chapter for now :)  
> I hope to post something new sooner than next month^^

It _does_ take long for Merlin to be able to tear his gaze away from the lake and when he finally does it is to see all the knights, Arthur, Gwen and Gaius still surrounding him.

He takes a deep breath and gives all of them a thankful nod and small smile they return and then they all turn at once.

They reach Camelot with the moon hanging high behind them, bathing everything in its silvery light. Leon and Elyan escort Gwen into the castle, Mordred disappears with Gwaine – and isn’t that a surprise –, while Percival helps Gaius off his horse and up the stairs.

That leaves Merlin and Arthur still on their horses, the former having turned around his horse to watch the moon and the city behind the gate. Arthur doesn’t even pretend to be doing anything other than watching Merlin.

“You know, if you stare any harder your eyes will pop out.”

Merlin is surprised at how composed and even amused he sounds – so is Arthur, judging by the way his stare turns calculating and then to something else.

“I just want to make sure you don’t fall off your horse.” Is the dry reply and Merlin actually chuckles. Judging by the shake of his head and the exasperated sigh Arthur would have preferred another reaction. Merlin really needs to brush up on behaving in a way that will stop everyone worrying about his mental health.

Arthur dismounts and gestures Merlin to do the same. And then he makes for one of the side doors and not the great stairs.

“You will have the next day off. I am taking you to Gaius, so you don’t wander off somewhere. You need some sleep, real sleep for once and I’m not taking any chances you not getting it.”

“What on earth are you talking about? You can’t give me the day off; I’m not sitting around for another one. Besides, I didn’t do much else _but_ sleeping the last two days.”

“Yes, drug induced sleep and today you acted like you were in some kind of trance, it’s not normal.”

Merlin rolls his eyes. “And what exactly would you prefer I’d do? Curl into a ball and weep? Steal a horse and try to kill Lot all on my own?” He shakes his head when Arthur’s only response is to curl his hands into fists and slam the next door open with a lot more force than necessary.

“Arthur, that wouldn’t help anything. And the way I grieve is not for you to command. If it is different from yours it’s because _I_ am different.” His voice has turned soft. He knows Arthur doesn’t understand and tries to make him see sense.

“I just lost my home. And my family. Stop acting as if you know what that feels like.” The last words are a lot sharper than he intended them and Arthur actually falters in his steps and stops.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean –“ Merlin rakes a hand through his hair and wonders when he became such a prat.

Arthur resumes walking again, this time more determined.

Merlin sighs and keeps quiet the rest of the way.

No matter his own feelings, he knows Arthur knows full well what it means to lose both. Morgana’s betrayal is still fresh in his memory even after all these years. But it had been different hadn’t it? Arthur still had had the silver lining of taking back his home, rescuing his father and the unwavering support of those loyal to him.

_His_ home was destroyed, everyone he once knew dead and his mother… well, he did try to rescue her and he failed. Not to mention that it had been entirely his fault all that had happened in the first place.

He is so occupied with his dark thoughts he doesn’t notice them taking a route that most definitely doesn’t lead to Gaius’ chambers. When he notices it Merlin comes to an abrupt halt.

“Arthur…?” His voice is a warning but the king simply shrugs and gestures for him to keep going. Merlin doesn’t move an inch.

“Don’t worry, I’m still taking you to Gaius, I just thought I might show you something first.” Arthur sounds strange in a way that Merlin can’t place. The king starts walking again, trusting Merlin to follow him.

He does as always.

“Where are we going?”

“You don’t know yet? I thought you knew this castle better than anyone, myself included, considering you always manage to hide _some_ where for days on end.”

His tone is half mocking half amused and only slightly accusing and Merlin sighs and trots behind his king in silence.

Arthur takes them up another flight of stairs. To his shame it’s only then that Merlin realizes where they’re going – the eastern turret.

Merlin has no idea what Arthur wants to show him up there, but he follows without another word of complaint and even keeps quiet while they step out and to the very edge of the tower.

It is always a breathtaking view – all of Camelot laid out beneath them, bathed in moonlight; the noise of the city preparing for the night swallowed by the distance and the wind that never seems to quiet down for long at the highest points of the citadel. Everything behind the orange glow of torches and small fires that provide both light and warmth is awash in silvery grey and soft darkness. The moon’s light bright enough to allow them to see all the way to the forest encompassing the fields and outer farms. It is also bright enough to make torches unnecessary where they stand high up above the city.

Arthur gives him a moment to appreciate the scenery before he turns to face him. Merlin has gotten so accustomed to the king looking uncomfortable he merely raises an eyebrow and waits – he can tease him later, if this turns out like the last times.

“I know it is hard to lose one’s home, to lose a parent. I know it will take some time for these wounds to heal. You probably feel like you’re alone and – and…” He falters and sighs. “You know what, you are right, I apparently can insult diplomats within an inch of their life without starting a war but I can’t talk to you like a normal person without having rehearsed a speech first.” He huffs and it’s more amused than anything.  “Whatever, all I wanted to tell you was that you have a home here, in Camelot. And friends that will always be there for you and if you need a day off, all you have to do is ask.” Arthur turns serious again and rests his hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “The same goes for you wanting to work to keep the unwanted thoughts at bay. I know they can be persistent and sometimes working helps. But I also know you like to overwork yourself before you actually ask for help. And if I act like a royal prat and deny you either, you’re well within your rights to remind me how I acted after my father got killed and all that entailed.” Like not trusting his own instincts anymore and relying on a traitorous uncle instead.

Merlin swallows thickly. “You know, that wasn’t even half bad. Maybe you’ll be able to say something like that without thinking about it first after another year or so. I wouldn’t bet on it though, considering the only other person you ever had trouble with talking to was Gwen but you’re married now and I bet it’s not that awkward anymore between the two of you since that would be really bad for a marriage and I don’t plan on giving you anymore chances at these conversations, because that would mean something has happened again and I really hope that no one else dies and…-“

Merlin breaks off when he realizes he’s babbling nonsense and Arthur keeps looking at him like he’s some spooked horse he needs to calm or something. It’s annoying, really, and unnecessary because, surely Arthur knows that he knows that Camelot is his home, always was and will always be and that he knows his friends are there for him when he needs them. After all, he was there, when they carried his mother down to the lake and then stood next to him in a silent vigil for hours until he was capable of turning his back to it and wander back inside the castle.

The tears now clouding his vision are stubborn ones that won’t retreat back when he wills them too, instead they seem to get more persistent at wanting to fall and make Arthur even more uncomfortable than he no doubt already is.

To say he’s shocked when they are swiped away by soft and calloused hands would be an understatement. His shock breaks the hold he had on his emotions for the entire evening and suddenly he feels more and more tears slipping down his cheeks.

Merlin can see Arthur hesitating for a moment and is pretty sure the king will tell him to pull himself together or make an attempt at lightning the mood – what he doesn’t expect is Arthur squaring his shoulders and, with a determined look pulling Merlin into an embrace.

It’s nothing like the awkward one they shared in the corridor. It is fierce and just strong enough to ground Merlin and give him something to hold onto. Arthur has Merlin’s head cradled in one hand and tucked under his chin while his other hand pins Merlin to his broad chest. Merlin never noticed how wide Arthur’s chest is until he finds he manages to burry himself in it and completely block out the world around them. He only realizes how cold he’d become when Arthur tucks his cloak around the both of them and Merlin’s fingers crunch up the soft fabric where he curls them into it.

He doesn’t weep; just lets his tears fall in silence and Arthur holding him up.

 

Merlin doesn’t know how long they stay up there. His tears eventually dry up but he doesn’t step away from Arthur until the cold seeps through the thick wool of the cloak. Even then it is Arthur breaking their embrace.

“You’re shivering. We should get back inside.” Merlin listens to Arthur because despite everything he still doesn’t seem to be able not to.

They make their way through the now quiet castle in silence. The few guards they meet respectfully bow but thankfully don’t inquire where their King was at such an hour or if he’d need anything. Merlin suspects it might be due to the closed off expression on Arthur’s face.

When they reach Gaius’ chambers the orange light of a fire still burning in the hearth greets them. Gaius is fast asleep on his chair next to it, a thick quill draped over him and a pillow under his head.

Merlin smiles and walks over to him and uses the pretense of pulling the quill back up to whisper the spell he used the last time.

He fully expects Arthur to have left while his back was turned but the young king waits for him at the bottom of the stairs that lead to his room.

At Merlin’s raised eyebrow he rolls his eyes and asks in a voice barely loud enough for Merlin to hear: “Is there anything you might need?”

Merlin rolls his eyes again, takes a candle so he wouldn’t trip over the many things littering the floor of his room and walks over to him. “No. And you should really leave now or do you want to sleep on some stairs again?” He is impressed when he manages to put actual humor in his voice.

Arthur however is not.

“Only, if it would keep you in bed, but that is a lost point. Now get in or I’ll have Gwaine making sure you stay in bed all of tomorrow on threat of banishing him from the taverns again.” A threat they both know will definitely work.

Merlin puts the candle on his nightstand and narrows his eyes at Arthur where the king still stands in the doorway.

“I thought I made clear that I am working. You promised to let me when I wanted to.”

“And I will, but only if you don’t keel over because you didn’t get enough sleep.” Merlin knows Arthur’s serious when the man pushes him backwards onto his bed and proceeds to pile every blanket, discarded jacket and even a few shirts he can find in the small room on Merlin.

“Alright, alright, I’ll sleep, I promise.” Merlin concedes with badly suppressed laughter.

“There, that wasn’t too hard, was it?” A smile colors Arthur’s reply and Merlin wonders not the first time that evening if he’d underestimated the man for all these years.

When Arthur takes the candle and turns to leave Merlin grabs his cloak to stop him.

“Arthur, I… thank you.” He wants to add more, tell Arthur that the way he acted today makes him not only a great king but also an exceptional friend but his throat closes up before he can utter another sound. Arthur seems to understand nonetheless.

His smile is warm and soft. “Anytime.” Then he is gone and Merlin falls asleep not much later, the day’s events catching up with him and taking their toll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :)


	19. Listening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, I'm not dead? :D  
> Again, I'm incredibly sorry and completely understand if you abandoned this story altogether; though for those of you still reading, here is the next chapter :)  
> My life was a bit of a rollercoaster (still is, to a certain point, though it's getting better) and it made it impossible for me to post anything, fearing any and all reactions (I know, stupid, but the brain can be an arsehole). I didn't stop writing though, hence more regular updates for a while (hopefully).  
> I'll stop rambling now and let you read the story. Enjoy :)

The next days pass in a blur. For once life at Camelot is as quiet as it gets. There are no vicious attacks from magical beast, no sorcerers hell-bent on revenge, no nothing. Even Lot has yet to send an answer or react in any way to what happened first in Ealdor and then to his diplomat in Camelot.

Merlin is at first treated by the knights and Arthur much like he expected– namely they refuse to let him go anywhere alone, are careful what they say around him, try to help him with his work; basically act in a way that makes it impossible for him to forget what happened.

He is not surprised to overhear Gwen scolding all of them on the fourth day after she witnessed it firsthand during the training session earlier in the morning.

It helps. They go back to acting normal, or at least try to, but after a few more days all that remains is a little awkwardness whenever one of them says something the others find inappropriate. Merlin usually deals with these situations by nudging Gwaine who either orders the next round of ale or tells a horribly embarrassing story about one of them – Merlin has absolutely no idea how the knight knows so many, but he is glad he does.

Gwaine is not only the one to help him out in these moments; he is also the one Merlin talks to the most. He tells him about his childhood, how dangerous it was for them while he couldn’t control his magic and how his mother had to come up with outrageous stories whenever his control slipped. Gwaine is a much better listener than he gets credit for. It helps him as much as his long talks with Mordred about how to best get magic users out of Camelot or Gaius’ steady and reassuring presence whenever he feels alone. Arthur tries to help too, as do the rest of the knights, but they don’t know so while Merlin appreciates their efforts it’s not the same.

He still enjoys their company and the relief and happiness he sees on their faces when, during a long night at the tavern he laughs for the first time in what feels like forever.

All in all it is probably the most carefree and laid-back time he had in Camelot since arriving that first day.

Merlin really should have known that it wouldn’t last.

 

The day Merlin gets rid of his bandages for good is two days before anyone notices they’re gone. He shouldn’t be able to ditch them for at least another two weeks and even then his arms should  be covered in ugly scars; his show only faint lines which seem to fade more with every day. If anyone notices they don’t voice their suspicions out loud.

It’s also four days before he has to go on a hut with Arthur, Mordred, Elyan and thirteen other knights. The hunting party comes across the destroyed druid camp on a cold and windy day. Again, it is not them finding something on purpose; it’s them trying to follow the track of an injured doe and stumbling into the clearing while running away from a pack of wolves.

From the moment they step on the ground the camp once occupied he feels the powerful protective magic at work and calls the others to a halt. They all obey – much to his surprise.

They stop, not without drawing their swords and listening for any sound that might announce the pack’s attack. When it doesn’t come they heave a collective relieved sigh and relax their stance.

“I think we managed to lose them. Maybe they found a tastier snack.” Elyan’s attempt at lightening the mood is thwarted by Mordred whimpering – and then falling to his knees.

Merlin is next to him in an instant while Arthur orders his men to form a lose circle around them and then kneels next to them.

“Mordred? Mordred, can you hear me? What’s wrong?”

The young druid shakes his head and presses his hands into his temples even harder. His face is scrunched up and there are tears leaking from his eyes.

Merlin wonders if he misinterpreted the magic here, if it’s harmful instead of protective. But when he checks he still only feels love, reassurance, the need to protect – and, strangely, sadness.

That’s when he sees the unmistakable traces of swords biting into wood on the nearest trees, an old fireplace that looks as if it exploded and arrows littering the ground – and the many dark patches where dried blood turned the fallen leaves an ugly shade of brown.

Merlin sucks in a breath and tentatively reaches for the Mordred’s conscience with his magic. He doesn’t try to establish a mental link; he merely orders his magic to form a shield around the other’s mind. He has absolutely no idea what he’s supposed to do, Mordred could probably tell him, considering he shielded Arthur against Lot’s sorcerer. So he improvises. He thinks about wanting to protect Mordred and lets his magic figure out the rest.

The moment it takes effect Mordred’s eyes widen in surprise – and then promptly roll back in his head before he collapses against Merlin.

Merlin lowers him gently to the ground and then starts to crumble some of the herbs he brought with him in a small pouch. With their aroma heavy in the air around them Mordred’s breathing calms down.

“What’s wrong with him?” Arthur sounds genuinely worried but doesn’t make a move to check on Mordred himself, trusting Merlin with his care. Merlin thinks it finally shows a little bit of trust in his abilities, the wrong ones, of course, but he really can’t be picky.

“Nothing, sire. He is merely unconscious.” Merlin reassures Arthur kneeling next to them.

“Yes, Merlin, I can see that. What I wanted to know was why?”

“If I had to guess, I’d say it’s because of this place.”

Ups, wrong answer. Arthur immediately reaches for his sword, an order for his men already on his lips and a look of worry and something that would be fear on anyone else crossing his face.

“Arthur, no, wait, I didn’t mean it like that. There is nothing here that would harm us, if anything it’s the contrary.” Merlin sighs and contemplates coming up with a lie that doesn’t involve powerful magic and he really means to not tell at least the entire truth but what comes out instead is:

“This place is a former druid camp. So I’d bet there are more protective spells and enchantments on this clearing than anywhere else in the forest. I don’t know what happened, but judging by the amount of blood it wasn’t pretty. And considering druids usually aren’t the killing type I’d say it’s theirs. Mordred is a former druid, he probably picked up on the magic and since he also picks up on mood and sometimes thoughts of whoever is near him I don’t think it was that pleasant.”

Merlin has absolutely no idea how he expects Arthur to react to that. It sure as hell isn’t the king nodding as if that makes any sense and saying: “Of course, that would overwhelm anyone. Do you think he will be alright now or would it be better if we’d leave?”

There is absolutely no trace of any negative emotion in Arthur’s voice. No resentment against Mordred, even though Merlin’s words just proved that while the young knight might not actively use magic he still has it. There is no hint of his usual hatred or fear of magic, no trace of mistrust in the benevolent nature of it. Arthur just sounds concerned and Merlin really, _really_ wants this to be true and not the king hiding his more negative emotions until a later time.

Before he can answer though, they’re interrupted by Elyan stepping up next to them and asking what they should do now. He is the only other knight from the round table to accompany them; the other knights are mostly young recruits and have absolutely no interest in interrupting a seemingly private exchange between their king and his manservant.

“Make sure we are really alone. The wolves might be gone but that doesn’t mean whoever attacked the druids isn’t coming back.”

Elyan nods and turns to do just that when Arthur calls him back.

“Elyan, wait. You should also find a way of marking this whole clearing sacred and off limits. This is, after all, a graveyard.”

Elyan’s eyes soften and he bows softly before returning to the other knights to carry out the king’s orders.

“That… is very thoughtful of you sire.”

“Well, sometimes I do learn from my mistakes, Merlin, believe it or not.” Arthur sounds old when he says that.

Before Merlin can really contemplate that Arthur acts rather out of character today Mordred groans softly and blinks his eyes open.

“Mordred?” Merlin asks once it becomes clear the young knight won’t start talking on his own.

Mordred blinks slowly and then his eyes focus on him before he closes them again.

“’S so quiet. Thanks, ‘rys.” He sounds half asleep and he looks peaceful and calm – until he bolts upright and looks at Merlin with panic in his eyes.

_I did_ not _just call you Emrys in front of Arthur, did I?_

“Woah, Mordred, calm down. You probably shouldn’t get up like that. Merlin says this place is kind of bad for you, so if you want us to leave, all you have to do is say so.” Arthur says completely oblivious and that together with Merlin’s _No, I don’t think he caught that_ is enough to chase the panic away and replace it with short-lived relief followed by all-consuming bitterness.

“Mordred, what’s wrong?” Now Arthur sounds worried and suspicious. His hand also found its way back to the hilt of his sword.

“Nothing, I –“ He sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. “I just remembered why I ended up on the floor.”

At Arthur’s raised eyebrow he takes another calming breath and says: “This clearing is a former druid camp. I don’t know, why I – why they’d – I, well, I’m –“ He breaks off and sends Merlin a pleading look but before he can help the young man Arthur smiles at his youngest knight.

“It’s alright, Merlin already told me you probably picked up on the magic and whatever might have happened here. Do you know anything about that? Did you pick up on – on some _thing_ before you collapsed?”

There is the slightest stumble in his words but Arthur still looks mostly worried for his knight and not frightened or put out at the idea of him using or at least having magic.

For a long time all both Merlin and Mordred can do is stare at their king.

“What?” Arthur asks and there is a challenge in his tone.

“I –You’re not, not going to execute me?” Mordred’s voice is doubtful and Merlin doesn’t have to hear his _What happened to Arthur?_ to wonder the same thing.

“Why would I do that?” Arthur matches his tone and okay, this is getting more than weird. Maybe he should check Arthur for possession.

“Well, I used magic.”

“From where I’m standing you didn’t really have a choice.”

“Well, yes, but since when –“

“And I doubt you enjoyed it.”

“No, I didn’t, but that’s not –“

“Do you intend to use whatever you learned against Camelot?”

“No, of course not! I would never –“

“Then I really don’t know why I should have you executed.”

Merlin realizes Arthur’s earlier order to ensure there are no unpleasant surprises lurking in the undergrowth and to find a way to mark the clearing bought them some much-needed privacy.

“But I have magic!”

“I know. You _are_ a druid. But you never used it against me or Camelot. To my knowledge you didn’t use it at all since becoming a knight of Camelot. And if you did, it was never to harm me or Camelot or am I wrong?”

“No, Sire.” Mordred swallows and Merlin is almost able to _taste_ his relief, it’s that profound.

“Do you _want_ me to execute you?”

“No, Sire.” This time it’s barely a whisper that leaves Mordred’s lips and Merlin really, really hates himself for messing everything up so badly the first time around.

“Well, I hoped you might say that. Otherwise this would be really awkward.” At Mordred’s slightly forced smile Arthur reaches out and squeezes his shoulder.

“Mordred, I’d never execute you for something you have no influence over. I trust you to protect not only me but Camelot. Do you think I would have made you a knight if I thought otherwise?”

Every word Arthur says is like a stab to Merlin’s heart. He wishes Arthur would react like that once he finds out about his magic. But it would be entirely different, wouldn’t it? He is never _not_ in control of his magic, he _is_ magic. He has more control over it without ever being trained than any high priestess could ever hope to have. And he not only uses it knowingly but also to harm maybe not Camelot, but definitely others. And hearing Arthur speak like that to someone he knows has magic – without resentment, fear or anger – is more than he ever hoped for. It could be the beginning of Arthur learning to accept magic – and Merlin still can’t tell him. He knows it would destroy that fragile belief that not all magic is bad that Arthur seems to have now. And he has solely Mordred to thank for that.

If that’s not an ironic turn of events Merlin has no idea what is.

Maybe the answer Mordred gives just a moment later.

“No. Thank you. For your trust. And everything else. I will not betray it and I will not let you down.” Mordred swears.

“I know. You’re a knight of Camelot, anything less would be punished with execution in case you were wondering.”

That gets a startled laugh from Mordred.

“Yes, I was wondering what the consequences of treason might be in Camelot.”

“Now you know. And you also know you have nothing to fear no matter what you tell me about whatever happened to you. Do you think you can?”

Mordred freezes and then relaxes again.

“Yes, Sire.” He takes a deep breath and seems to prepare himself for whatever reaction he might prompt from his king before he starts talking.

“This clan was one of those most in favor of the peace treaty because it meant they could walk freely once more without fear of getting arrested on sight. But there are those that suffered too much under Uther, lost too much. They want more than a shaky peace treaty, they want retribution. The eldest of this clan tried to reason with them, but it – it failed. The protective magic they wove couldn’t help them against the powerful magic of the others. They were slaughtered.” He shudders and closes his eyes for a moment.

“That happened about three weeks ago. The corpses were most likely eaten by wolves, they’re hungry this year. We were probably the first ones to come across this place since then; I, at least, am the first druid to come here. I always feel it when someone dies, even if it’s been a long time ago. And usually that’s not so bad.” Merlin thinks it is and judging by Arthur’s look of utter horror he agrees.

“Usually I can blend it out just fine. But here, since I’m the first they could talk to it was … _intense_. They were all screaming and showing me _things_ –“ He breaks off again and swallows hard.

“Are you sure it wasn’t meant as an attack?” And there is the doubt and suspicion Merlin’s been waiting for.

“Yes, absolutely. They recognized some of us.” The look he sends Merlin speaks volumes about _which_ it was they recognized.

“They didn’t mean to overwhelm me like that; they don’t have any control over themselves. All they wanted was to tell me what happened to them and that it might happen to others. They’re worried they won’t be the only ones attacked by the rogues. And I think they’re right.” The last he says while looking directly at Arthur.

For a moment Merlin thinks the king might insist that that would be a problem the druids need to solve themselves since the threat is clearly coming from within their own ranks.

“I agree. We will discuss this further once we’re back in Camelot but we will have to at least warn the leaders of the other clans and offer assistance. And protection for whoever might need it.”

That’s it; he’s definitely checking Arthur for possession. Because this is not what the king would have said only weeks ago – before he learned a powerful witch in a lake rescued his servant from some bandits and then assisted in the funeral of said servant’s mother; before Merlin heard him talking about the advantages of Mordred’s abilities when it came to dealing with unpleasant guests.

Maybe he should instead keep an eye on Arthur in case he starts suspecting someone else of having magic.

 

The way back to Camelot is quiet. Mordred is caught up in whatever he remembers from the clearing, Arthur is probably forming a plan of action against these rogue druids and Merlin is busy trying to figure out if maybe, just maybe Arthur is starting to see magic in another light.

Once they reach the courtyard they immediately make for the great hall. Arthur summons not only the round table but also Gaius, several errand boys, scribes and a handful of servants.

“Arthur, what’s going on?” Gwen asks once she arrives with Gaius.

“Guinevere, I thought you wanted to spend the day in the lower town. Is everything alright?” Arthur sounds concerned and Merlin can’t blame him. He too is getting a bit worried. He walked in on her and Gaius twice in the last week and a couple of times before the whole Ealdor fiasco. Every time they either changed the topic or Gwen left for apparently urgent business.

Gwen blushes and averts her eyes.

“Everything is alright, My Lord. The Queen merely asked if I could treat a young boy in the lower town who fell ill and whose parents can’t afford the needed medicine.”

“Of course, do for him what you can.” Arthur believes the lie, Merlin doesn’t.

It’s not an unbelievable one; it’s just that Gwen wouldn’t have blushed if it was just a talk about giving aid to those in need. Together with their strange behavior he witnessed it worries him. Maybe he should try that spell for finding illnesses – another useful spell he knows about before he should.

He keeps his eyes on her while Arthur and the knights discuss how to best help the druids, how to prevent attacks like the one in the clearing and how to apprehend these men before they could attack Camelot. Arthur listens to what both Gaius and Mordred say about the ways of druids, their most likely targets and how to best phrase the offer of assistance and protection. Merlin would be proud of him if he wouldn’t be focused on Gwen. She never even looks in his direction, never speaks and her hands are tightly pressed together the entire time.

The letters the errand boys will carry to places agreed on with the druids are long and not only offer knights to defend their camps but also an invitation to those seeking protection within Camelot’s walls.

As soon as the meeting ends Gwen leaves the hall together with Gaius and some of the knights. Merlin makes to follow but halts at Arthur’s command.

“Yes, Sire?”

“I need you to make sure Mordred is alright. He didn’t say anything, but whatever he heard must bother him. You two seem to get along well, maybe he’ll talk to you. Oh, and you also need to polish my armor and bring my dinner to my room.”


End file.
